FateFrom Soft
by Abyss the Hedgehog
Summary: 4th Grail War was disastrous enough already, right? Well, what will happen if the Servant selection shuffles into something completely different? See for yourself how Holy Grail War is not just "getting good". Crossover with Demon's Souls, Dark Souls, Dark Souls 2 and Bloodborne. Rated T for violence.
1. Point Zero

**So, uh... hi.**

 **Thought I can give a shot to a new fic. The idea I was thinking about is, put simply, Fate/Zero crossed over with various From Soft games. Well, "various" is probably stretching it, nevertheless I've been excited about the idea for a moment now and thought I might as well try and write something up before my excitement wanes away.**

 **Hope you can put up with my shitty characterization. ^_^;**

 **Disclaimer: decided to put it in a crossover with Dark Souls specifically because we have four Servants from there compared to two from Bloodborne and one from Demon's Souls.**

* * *

 **FATE/FROM SOFT  
**

Sometimes things don't go as according to plan, particularly when you can't afford to have them not go right.

 _This_ , however? This was an outrage and Kayneth Archibald El-Melloi II would bet his position in Clock Tower that there was no other person in this town as enraged as him.

It started off bad enough already: that insolent little rat Welvet stole his catalyst required for summoning a Servant Kayneth desired, likely out of spite for being proven wrong on his inane theory. Well, that wasn't all that bad in itself, since he would have a chance to teach him a proper lesson. Public condemnation of his ridiculous thesis didn't seem to be enough.

He would have to do away with something summoned on the fly, but that was alright: he was an esteemed Magus, someone of great power and renown. Adding to that, he was able to exploit a loophole in the summoning ritual and have his Servant be supplied from prana storage of his fiancee, Sola-Ui. That way, he had both full control of the summoned warrior and full magical ability.

But then, as it turned out, his Servant proved... unremarkable.

Well, "unremarkable" was probably a kind word: he was given a decreipt old man, bound to a wheelchair and missing a foot. A Heroic Spirit, great figure of yore... an he got a disabled, to put it bluntly, geezer? He was _better_ than that! He was one of the most renowned Magi to ever set foot in Mage's Association; a shining beacon of this era, for God's sake! Maybe these just were these inferior Japanese leylines? Something about the air? Kayneth couldn't figure it out.

Of course, even after seeing his Servant's form he tried to remain optimistic. Perhaps this ancient specimen was a Caster? That would seem alright. He would be able to identify at least a few physically challenged spellcasters and-

"I am of the Lancer Class, here to do your bidding, Master." And as Lancer spoke, Kayneth's hopes and dreams went down the drain as his expression shifted from cautiously hopeful to completely disgusted. A legless Lancer. It's like fate itself wanted to laugh at him. Lancers far and wide were depicted as a Servant Class putting most emphasis on speed, being unrivaled in that department... and his just so happened to have no leg.

 _Some Fast Wheels I have acquired_ , El-Melloi thought with a soundless groan. Well, no matter. Even with this laughable excuse for a Servant he had to make do. He still had his own magical prowess, unrivaled by anyone amongst his enemies. Some "enemies" these were. Only Tohsaka was of any real threat, being a Magus almost as good as himself. The others... well, such motley crew hasn't been assembled ever since Fuyuki Grail Wars began.

Kayneth Archibald El-Melloi planned to educate and school them all.

* * *

Waver Velvet wasn't exactly sure what to expect of the summoning ritual. The piece of cloth he'd stolen from Kayneth supposedly belonged to Alexander the Great, a powerful figure of ancient Macedonia who united the world against Persians and created a giant empire that vanished the very moment he ceased to be.

Even someone like him however could tell that something went wrong.

The figure that stood before him was enormous, easily dwarfing him in size. That wouldn't be a problem for any grown man, but this knight was at least _twice_ as tall as Waver stood. Armed with a halberd and a giant shield, his face was hidden behind the helmet.

Giant knight kneeled on one knee in front of his Master, acknowledging their pact. Heavy plates creaked, the armor speaking for its owner. Waver noticed rather bitterly that even with his Servant kneeling he was still taller than him standing.

"My liege." The giant spoke, his tone surprisingly soft for someone of this posture. "I, Dragonrider, offer my services in the coming War." Dragonrider? Waver couldn't think of any heroes that rode dragons off the top of his head, but that could probably be solved with just asking Rider for his name.

"Thank you, Rider." He replied, somewhat awkwardly. Man, this was different than what he expected. Then again, he just jumped at the call here and had no proper preparation, so... well, too late to back down. He had to prove something to that arrogant buffoon, that even someone like him could do it.

What now?

* * *

Kirei Kotomine wasn't sure what to make of the situation.

He was to summon an Assassin-class Servant. In that regard everything went correctly... and yet, it was not quite correct regardless.

The warrior in front of him was fully clad in dark blue armor, completely unbefitting of someone who'd call himself Assassin. The face has been obscured by a porcelain mask and a helmet in a strange shape, quite like an insect's body. The priest also caught a glimpse of a blond braid.

"You must be my Master." The masked warrior nodded in a greeting, her tone having some sort of odd quality to it. "I am Servant Assassin, here at your disposal." Kirei replied with his own nod, briefly glancing up at the ceiling. Merely a story higher his superior and mentor was summoning Archer as he spoke with his Servant. Here was hoping that no problems would present themselves.

* * *

Was Tokiomi Tohsaka angry? No, not really. Just... disappointed.

He went to great lengths to secure his win in 4th Holy Grail War before it properly begun. Acquiring the catalyst wasn't the easiest of tasks, performing the ritual just right was equally challenging. To get the timing, say the incantation with a tone that is just right... and yet it felt all this work went for naught.

The man before him was almost certainly not Gilgamesh, The King of Heroes. For starters, he was absolutely massive, just barely fitting in the room. In fact, the giant was sitting rather than standing when summoned and yet he still dwarfed Tokiomi by an order of magnitude. Dressed in old, crude armor; his main distinguishing feature was the helmet, shaped a little like a hawk's head.

"Greetings, Master." He spoke, his tone loud and booming. For a small moment, Tokiomi feared for the various delicate items stored inside the room, as if Archer's voice was to shatter them all effortlessly. "Thou have summoned me, and I have answered. As an Archer, I shall aid you in your conflict." During his little introduction, the red-clad man has found something odd in Archer himself.

Namely, he did not look at him... or at anything else.

Tokiomi's ever unflappable calmness shivered dangerously. Yes, this War was going to be much harder than he anticipated.

* * *

The ritual went wrong, Zouken Matou was certain of that.

The Berserker Kariya was supposed to summon... well, he seemed unusually calm for a mad warrior, but that wasn't what bothered the Matou patriarch.

That was not the Servant the catalyst was supposed to summon in the first place.

Frankly, it was the first time he had seen such an odd figure. Imposingly tall, with long gray hair and short beard and perhaps most importantly, blindfolded with a bandage; Berserker did have an air of madness around him, as should be... but at the same time something didn't seem right. He lacked the feral aura, the scrambled mind. He did reek of blood, but... but this blood seemed different as well. It belonged to something else, something from beyond that not even Zouken - a man old enough to remember the first Grail War - could decipher.

The gray-haired Servant didn't speak, but his face was turned towards Kariya, as if seeing him even without vision. The pact has been made.

* * *

Ryuunosuke Uryuu has never felt more thrilled.

Ever since he acquired that strange book his thoughts were almost solely focused on summoning a demon that he could talk with. Wouldn't that be cool, to see what lied in the deepest paths of Hell and converse with the devils? The ritual described in the grimoire seemed easy enough to do.

He had it all ready this time. It took a couple of attempts - the news stations were talking only about tha, it made him blush from all the attention he was getting - but this time he came prepared. The pentagram was drawn correctly, filled five times and all that and he even got himself a small sacrifice for the demon, too.

Imagine his ecstasy when not one, but two demons came out of the summoning circle! It was literally Christmas!

Admiteddly, he didn't think them for demons first. There was a man and a woman. She had pure white robes, their bottom stained by blood; he was fully armored with a hammer as big as Ryuunosuke was tall. His helmet was kinda silly, but hey, demons had their own fashion sense, he was sure of it.

But then he took a breath and was almost overwhelmed with how the woman reeked of evil energy, if one could possibly smell that. Ryuunosuke couldn't really explain it, but he just knew he's dealing with a rather nasty pair.

"..." The demon knight looked over at the bound child in the corner. Seeing that, the red-haired serial killer didn't waste time, pushing the kid closer.

"Straight to the point, Mr. Demon?" He grinned at the knight, presenting his sacrifice. "Here, please, got him specially prepared for you. Just, sheesh, didn't know there will be both you and Miss Demon, I'd have another one ready." He smiled bashfully, scratching the back of his head.

"...show me your hand." The woman said, gesturing towards the sign inscribed on Ryuunosuke's hand.

"Oh? Er, sure. Is it about this funny thing?" He asked, presenting it proudly. Caster's eyes narrowed. Yes, these were Command Signs.

...she was not summoned into this war alongside her loyal sentinel to do evil however. Could this man be convinced to change his ways? Could she manage such a feat?

"Er, so..." Ryuunosuke shifted a little nervously. The suspense was killing him plus he was growing a little impatient. Was the demon pair just teasing him or could they possibly not have an intention of killing the kid? Well, that would have been disappointing... but hey, he summoned two demons. How cool was that?

"...Astraea?" The knight spoke towards the woman, his tone the very ice itself. Ah, so that's what her name was. Kinda funny, European maybe?

"...we accept the sacrifice." Caster nodded slowly, replying her royal knight, Garl Vinland, with her own gaze.

"Cool!" Ryuunosuke grinned, happy that the uncertainty's been lifted away. "For a moment I thought you don't wanna kill the kid."

"We do not." The woman shook her head slowly, causing Ryuunosuke's to tilt to the side in confusion.

"Huuh? But you said you accept the sacrifice. Who are you gon-" A feeling of extremely sharp pain in his chest snapped his mouth shut as his eyes widened, trying to desperately grasp for breath. Looking down revealed a rather unpleasant sight, namely Caster's arm plunged deep down his chest, easily piercing through the clothing, skin and muscle as they were but a wet tissue. "T-that's... pretty cool too..." The red-haired man smiled weakly, the metallic taste of blood gathering up in his mouth.

Caster didn't smile back. With a single movement her slender hand crushed his beating heart with an awful squish, turning it into a pulp of blood and muscle.

* * *

"I ask of you. Are you my Master?" The woman before Kiritsugu Emiya was a Saber, he had no doubt about it.

However, it was not the Saber he expected.

She wore no armor beyond the jacket made of tough, hard leather. Although her face was obscured by a mask depicting a bearded man, it did little to hide her voice. She also wore a rather peculiar hat, its tip so sharp it could very well be a weapon itself.

She had her own scabbard with her. It was completely mismatched compared to the one that has been used as a catalyst.

Put short, Saber was not Arthur Pendragon or anyone Kiritsugu recognized.

* * *

Somewhere far away Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg smiled a little.

Yes, things were going just as he planned. This will be entertaining to watch.

* * *

 **And with these small introductions and perhaps an unexpected first victim of the 4th Grail War we can proceed. '3' Tell me what you think.**


	2. Calm Before The Storm

**More stuff. Let's get more familiarized with the names and such.**

* * *

As Kiritsugu Emiya has found out, this wasn't just a small mistake in the ritual of summoning. No, this was something else entirely.

Saber introduced herself as Lucatiel of Mirrah; the name he hasn't heard about in any sort of myth or legend, no matter how obscure. To this end he questioned the Einzbern patriarch on any heroes named like this, but, much to his shock, Acht knew nothing of such.

With this in mind, Kiritsugu questioned his Servant. She spoke clearly and with no hint of dishonesty, but it quickly became clear that Saber knows nothing about Earth proper. While she was aware of the current proceedings, as every Servant in the War, she didn't really know any of the names he suggested. Countries, legends, anything related to Britain...

Put simply, something went horribly wrong. Even if the summoning was incorrect, he would still gain assistance of a hero of yore, not someone that seemed to be from a wholly different world.

Well... it didn't matter in the end. The objective remained the same and even if he was handicapped, Kiritsugu wasn't going to quit.

* * *

Lucatiel was nervous.

She knew that the world she was summoned into is not the one she was familiar with. Her Master did not know of Mirrah or any kingdom she knew; knew nothing about The Age of Fire and the curse of undeath.

Now maskless, she almost wanted to touch that accursed proof that she was one of the Undead, that... rotting patch of skin. Every Undead had such a Darksign, but most had theirs hidden in places where one wouldn't look without getting intimate or into an interrogation. Hers was just there, mocking her. She wore a mask to conceal it, but that enough was troublesome.

"Hey now." A slender pale hand batted her own away from her Darksign. Saber blinked, staring at the woman sitting in the other chair. White-haired, red-eyed, full of life and yet devoid of it.

Irisviel von Einzbern, her Master's wife. In her short conversation with him, he decided that she will be protecting her, the white-haired woman used as a scapegoat, a fake Master. Lucatiel supposed she didn't mind this although she wasn't sure if she should leave him unattended.

As he explained, he had his ways to stay out of trouble.

"You'll mess the haircut we made." Irisviel smiled, pointing to the fringe covering Saber's Darksign. Since she was to guard her, she was to remain in physical form at all times and, well, something like that would attract too much unwanted attention. A pair of sunglasses - a really fancy item, she had to admit - would not work either as the patch was too big to be obscured like that and she couldn't wear her mask for obvious reasons.

"Right. My apologies, Lady Einzbern." She bowed her head a little, still getting used to her new attire: a suit not unlike her Master's, just without the trenchcoat and a little neater. Essentially, she was to look and act as a bodyguard of a rich lady from the nobility on her vacation in Japan, Fuyuki City.

"Just Irisviel is fine, you know." Lucatiel nodded stiffly, still a little unfamiliar with the feeling, so to speak. Back in her life and then unlife she had no real superior and answered to no one beyond herself. There was a superior figure that shadowed her own accomplishments, but...

"Frankly, I'm a bit excited to go to Japan." Iri smiled again, glancing outside the window where a furious snowstorm claimed those foolish enough to walk through it. In that regards, Einzberns' citadel was well hidden. "We have a small castle there, too."

"Is that so?" Saber has found herself spacing out. Strange. Perhaps it was just the weather having such an effect on her? The thought seemed silly for her, a semi-material wraith, but perhaps such was the case.

* * *

To be fairly honest, Kayneth Archibald El-Melloi absolutely detested flying.

Something about being locked in a giant steel machine that would kill everybody in it if something went wrong had him feel nervous. Of course, he could protect himself and Sola from certain death, but finding some sort of civilization after the crash would have been an achievement in itself... or if they happpened to crash on water...

The magus shook his head, trying to clear it out of bad thoughts. That's the last thing he needed now, more blows to his morale. His eyes briefly set upon his fiancee, now sleeping soundly in the seat next to his. She was really vulnerable to jet lag.

One row behind them slept Lancer. If there was one thing Kayneth's Servant was good at, it was deception. Dressed in fairly inconspicuous clothing, he didn't differ at all from the passengers. His magical energy was also concealed as if he was an Assassin. Although Kayneth would rather have him not be seen if he can stay in spirit form, Lancer insisted that he remains like this.

"After all" He said, that wrinkled old face lightening up with an odd smile. "we do not know from where does the enemy strike."

There was a bit of truth in his Servant's insolency. Perhaps it was just his own morale not keeping itself too well despite his own superiority, but Kayneth was paranoid. Not only was Lancer nowhere to be found in any myth or legend, something about his very presence was unnerving. He couldn't quite decipher what exactly, but he'd get to the bottom of this in free time, once he's disposed of various rabble populating this Grail War.

The flight to Japan went smoothly enough.

* * *

The current situation was unusual, but salvageable: Tokiomi Tohsaka knew that much.

As it turned out, his Archer and Kirei's Assassin knew each other in life. Even better, they were close friends and together fought against threats. That made it far easier to use them in tandem, giving him the edge he needed against the other Masters and their Servants. Both classes were better suited to fight their enemies from afar or otherwise approach anywhere but from the front, so that seemed to work just fine. Additionally, Assassin mentioned that she can hold her own in direct combat though - for obvious reasons - she would prefer not to engage anyone that way.

Here was where the problem started mounting up. Archer was blind. Although it would be possible for Tokiomi to provide him with means to see, any time he would be unable to do so would put his Servant at severe disadvantage. Secondly, his frame was... well, it wasn't the smallest and thus made him exposed to any would-be attacks. Although his Servant reassured that like Assassin he can handle his own in close combat, Tokiomi wasn't convinced. To "handle himself" and to "be good" were two different things, after all. Granted, his ears were impeccable, but red-clad mage would rather be sure.

By his request, both Kirei and Assassin scouted around Fuyuki in search of enemy Masters. So far it seemed that there were two others, not counting him and his apprentice. They didn't relay him any noteworthy details on the Masters in question, but that was alright. For now, Tokiomi just wanted the contestants gathered around. Only then could they begin this conflict properly.

He picked up one of the carvings made by Archer's hand. It depicted a smiling face and, apparently, was enchanted with a minor sound effect when activated, so to say. Made of some sort of wood Tokiomi couldn't identify, it said "greetings" whenever you pressed your hand into it or even just touched some hard surface with it. A small trinket, the way it was done had Mr. Tohsaka charmed by both simplicity and care put into it. There was perhaps nothing extraordinary about it, but something just... just seemed right with it.

Smiling to himself he put away the carving. A room next door, Archer was busy making arrows. The first thing after stepping out of the summoning circle, his Servant requested that he is provided finest treebark and toughest stone available.

* * *

This was not going according to plan. This was not at all going according to Kariya's plan.

Well, for a given definition of "plan". The Berserker he summoned was not the one that he was supposed to summon. In that case there was no room for error. Bah, there shouldn't be one with that old demon Zouken overseeing it.

And yet, the Servant he summoned was not Lancelot of the Lake. Worse - or perhaps better - he wasn't even of this world.

"You are not going anywhere like this, Master." The blind warrior spoke, his voice surprisingly smooth for someone of this stature. That he was capable of coherent dialogue was... well, that wasn't supposed to happen. Kariya made sure to include that one line that assures the summoned Servant will be a Berserker.

And yet despite that, the softspoken giant couldn't be more serene if he tried. True, he reeked of madness, but he thought and planned clearly.

"I'm fine..." Kariya grumbled, shuffling back to his feet. Those accursed Matou Crest Worms were the only way he could catch up with his prana reserves to manage a Servant. Although Zouken didn't give him much chances, he remained cautiously optimistic. It was all that kept him sane. That, and a chance to steal Sakura back from him.

"The beasts within eat at your very soul." Berserker shook his head, helping Kariya walk. Currently it was a late evening in one of Fuyuki's alleyways so he had little fear of being found.

"The beasts within are needed." His Master grunted disapprovingly, taking a moment to rest by the wall. Well, at the very least such low rank of Mad Enhancement meant the cost to maintain Berserker's form was much lower than he expected. He could actually hold himself up pretty fine, apart from occassional vein popping under his skin. "Can't... can't really keep you around without them."

"...understood. Regardless..." Father Gascoigne of the Healing Church shook his head. "I will find the way. Some way."

* * *

Waver Velvet was... well, he couldn't be outraged.

(Dragon)Rider explained everything quickly enough and the longer he spoke, the less confidence his Master felt. For starters, he was not a hero or rather he wasn't anyone notable. Dragonriders were elite soldiers of a great king Vendrick of Drangleic, ones who helped found the kingdom in question. Together they crushed the bones of old masters of the land into powder and built Vendrick's domain upon their graves.

Of course, this raised another question: just where was Drangleic? Waver has never heard of such a kingdom in any myth or any bit of ancient history. After another round of questioning they came to a conclusion that just like Rider doesn't know anything about Earth, Waver has no idea about the lands his Servant described.

Another pressing matter was that, well, Dragonrider was nobody special as far as myths and legends were concerned. Yes, the formation etched itself in history of... wherever the heck was he from, but a single soldier from such a group was... well, that he became a Heroic Spirit rather than some sort of wraith was something else.

And finally, he refused to change clothing or even take his armor off. For a moment Waver even considered using a Command Spell to have him do it - how was he supposed to maintain him in Spirit Form if he wasn't that much of a Magus to begin with? - but thankfully, fate smiled upon the two of them.

It... kind of involved Rider beating the living daylights out of some hapless Japanese enthusiast of travelling, but they've managed to acquire a fully functioning camper van. His Servant planned to kill the unfortunate former van owner, but as Waver reasoned, nobody would believe that poor sod. Plus, just being hit by one of Rider's fists was enough to send that unlucky victim flying into a nearby trash container.

As it turned out, the aforementioned camper van was equipped with a windshield that allowed to see only from the inside, obscuring a driver and any passengers from sight. A welcome discovery, considering that the driver had at least ten feet of height and didn't move anywhere without his armor. Frankly, Waver was astonished that his Servant even fits in the driver's seat.

Well, at the very least they now had a fully functioning base of operations... it was a small boon in this increasingly rockier event.

* * *

Saint Astraea felt bad using this child as a guide, but she had no real choice.

After disposing of the bloodthirsty monster that was her former Master, she cut off his hand still containing Command Spells. Although she was able to sustain both herself and Garl, that order of things wouldn't last for too long. Even with her vast magical energy, she just wouldn't be able to keep both of them alive, so to say... and she'd rather die than part with her sentinel again.

The boy was naturally terrified, but answered their questions patiently. Perhaps it was Caster's soothing presence or maybe he just went past the limit and couldn't be phased anymore. For a moment, Astraea was tempted to take him with them, not as a Master - that just wouldn't work and would make her as bad as that blood-haired murderer - but rather as a soul to protect. They couldn't just leave him in a house full of mutilated bodies, that much was certain.

However, as Garl pointed out, endangering someone who had nothing to do with the War or even magical world was simply foolish. Caster needed a silent place, a place of worship. Somewhere she could kneel down and take a moment to consult the ones above. She was no longer in her world where God proved to be as malicious and evil as the demons he created. Perhaps this deity could offer advice... show her the way.

The boy mentioned a church not too far away from his home. Such a temple was perhaps a good place to start. They ventured there, remaining hidden from curious eyes. The church itself wasn't a particularly flashy location. Frankly, Astraea would miss it without the pointers.

Once inside her eyes spotted a priest of sorts. A man of old age in uniform dark robes, he seemed to read some sort of scripture. The holy book was small and leatherbound, adorned with an ornate cross.

The man looked to be way into his eighties, but his reflexes were sharp. The moment the unlikely trio stepped in further he closed the book and focused his gaze upon them. "Servants cannot enter the confines of this church." He spoke, confidently sizing Caster up. Astraea shook her head. "It is a sanctuary for those who wish to no longer be involved in the conflict."

"Then I bring such a victim to this sanctuary." The maiden gestured towards the boy hiding behind her robe. The priest narrowed his eyes, but said nothing, merely giving a nod for her to continue. "I... we have disposed of my previous Master to save this boy."

"That so?" Now such an explanation made priest's eyebrow raise. That wasn't a thing he expected to hear and, as cynical as it was, over a random boy with no knowledge of the magical world.

"Yes." Caster reached into the pocket of her robe and presented a severed hand, Command Seals still inscribed upon it. Without further ado she approached the priest, handing it out to him. "We had no intention of serving someone so callous and disregarding of human life." Now these were unusual words to hear from a Servant. "I trust you can put these to a better use."

"What of you however? And what of the boy?"

"We hoped that the child can be put under your care." Caster nodded, her gaze determined. "We cannot make him a Master and so I hoped that he can find peace within the confines of this temple."

Not many people could say they've seen a Holy Grail War and lived to tell the tale and even less could say that they were overseers of the conflict not once, but twice... and yet, Risei Kotomine couldn't remind himself of a similar situation like this one.

"For that matter, we would also like to rest here even if for a bit." Astraea understood why there would be a place in Fuyuki that allowed Masters to escape and hide in. I... wish to converse with the one above if possible."

* * *

So this was Fuyuki.

Lucatiel was frankly a little overwhelmed by the sheer scale of this new, modern world. For a moment she briefly wondered if Mirrah can ever look like that and if she'd like it. An era where a sword lost its meaning sounded like quite a scary one to live in physically.

Well, for now she was just a Servant. Perhaps one day the fate will allow her to be summoned into a world that's different from this one.

No matter. Irisviel was enamored with their surroundings - immediately setting off to a nearest shopping center with her in tow - and that was what counted. They had to savor these moments of calm and serenity while they lasted.

Something told her the peaceful illusion would vanish by the evening...

* * *

 **Fighting begins in the next chapter. '3'  
**


	3. About Time For That Storm

**Hello there. Guess it's time for things to get heated-up. '3'  
**

 **Gonna say, I appreciate any and all reviews on the thing proper.**

* * *

In front of the altar, Astraea felt small and insignificant.

The elderly priest, having introduced himself as an overseer of the conflict, allowed her and Garl to remain within the confines of the church under a condition that they would not leave it under any circumstances, at least for the time being. As for the boy they brought with themselves, he was taken by the aforementioned priest into "a safe place". She felt a slight sense of unease at these vague words, but both him and her sentinel assured that he meant well. The boy has suffered enough and leaving him here would only endanger him further.

Yes. This had to be the case.

The overseer, upon her request, provided her with a copy of his holy scriptures. She reviewed the book with utmost care and attention to all details, but it wasn't enough. Frankly, this Old Testament had her frowning, but as she progressed from there to New Testament the scriptures seemed more proper, calmer... better.

As she read, she payed special attention to the one they called God's Son. What he did through his life seemed a little like her own work: he reached out to the ones in need, the ones who were weak and wavering. Eventually, he was betrayed by one of his disciples, sentenced to death by those envious and hateful towards him and crucified. Such a cruel way to die, Caster thought. It all seemed like her own case back in a day when the nameless Demon Slayer claimed their lives.

Unlike her, Jesus has returned from the dead and soon enough back to his Father in Heavens. As it was explained, his death was to cleanse the humanity off their sin, to give them a chance to reach Heaven again.

Astraea looked upon the altar. The central part of its decoration was a small wooden cross. The very tool used by his executioners became a symbol of the faith in Him, ironically enough. A little higher, a window made of stained glass depicted His Resurrection, with winged figures announcing his imminent arrival with cheerful trumpets.

She was nowhere near pure as Him, she knew as much. Her soul was that of a Demon, of a vile creature. And yet... was she doing wrong by trying to help the miserable souls that were long ago banished to the Valley of Defilement? Forsaking her cruel God, she accepted this wicked power for a noble goal.

Was it really that bad...?

By the entrance to the church, Garl Vinland watched the maiden, not moving a muscle.

* * *

In Sola-Ui's honest opinion, everyone's company was better than Kayneth's.

She slept through most of the journey from England to Japan so she took the jet-lag relatively well. The same couldn't be said about her - eugh - fiance who was rather nervous. Even made a couple of mistakes when setting up Bounded Fields in the hotel they were staying in. She had little love or respect for him, but she could definitely say that he rarely made any errors when engaging in Magecraft - if any.

Of course, during all this he'd lash out at Lancer now and then as if it was his fault that the whole situation is as it was. The elderly Servant didn't seem to mind and just took all the insults and belittlings without a flinch, with the same pleasant smile. That seemed to irritate Kayneth even further so to try and defuse such troublesome situation Sola suggested that she and Lancer will just go out, do some "scouting" - translate to a bit of shopping and just going away from that irritating buffoon - around the central area of Fuyuki. It was the middle of the day translating slowly into afternoon, so the risk of being attacked was minimal. Even so, Lancer would be there to protect her from harm should the need arise and she could communicate with Kayneth easily enough.

Amazingly, her fiance accepted and so Sola now had a whole afternoon for herself. From a certain point of view she was Lancer's Master anyway, given she was the one supplying him with prana. Kayneth only had the Command Seals to keep his authority, but something told her that the elderly Servant would follow him anyway. He wasn't perhaps passive, but he did seem frankly resigned of everything, as if his duty was just a chore that had to be done. Although Kayneth didn't question him about his wish, Sola was curious. Lancer seemed like a regretful type.

"I don't suppose there is anything." The old man shrugged. Dressed in some of Kayneth's spare clothing - it's not like he wore anything other than that greatcoat of his - he let her guide his wheelchair through the streets of Fuyuki. Now and then he'd look around, as if briefly captivated by something but that captivation would then die as quickly as it was born. "I lived my life long enough. I did my fair share of things and, well... I don't think even a Grail can fix some."

Now Sola was even more curious. She didn't bother studying the details of the Grail War, but she did know that the aforementioned chalice was nearly omnipotent. If there was a wish, it could grant it. To just turn it down like that, to deny it... just what did Lancer witness back in a day that made him question one of the few miracles that did exist?

"What about you, Lady Sola?" The old man smiled a little, watching cars pass by. The red traffic light stopped them from progressing for now.

"Me?" She had no hopes of obtaining the Grail on her own, she didn't even consider the thought. Important she might have been, Kayneth would not give away the Grail even if she asked him for it. Yes, he might have been almost unreasonably crazy for her, but that chalice was something else entirely. Obtaining it would give him immense heaps of prestige.

"Surely you have to have a dream of sorts. Something that went unfulfilled." Green light. They began moving again, passing by a particularly trendy-looking clothes' shop. Sola's eyes briefly stopped, regarding a rather nice crimson dress. "Such as a bit of shopping." He added with a chuckle, gesturing for her to go ahead. The red-head wheeled him inside rather enthusiastically. Lancer could have sworn she had small sparks in her eyes.

* * *

There was no mistaking it. Kayneth was already here.

While cruising around the city with Rider and their stolen camper van Waver spotted a peculiar red-headed lady accompanied by some wrinkled old man on a wheelchair. He saw her twice while studying in Clock Tower and both these times included accidentally bumping into her. Accompanied by Kayneth on both occassions, it was perhaps the only time when the hapless student saw his normally coolly dismissive lecturer's expression briefly twist into rage. Frankly, for a moment Waver even thought he would claw his eyes out for just laying a sight upon his fiancee.

Sola-Ui... something something. From some sort of old, esteemed mage family from Scotland... or Ireland, he couldn't say he bothered to check. He could tell she was from such a family just by the way she kept her nose high. Thankfully she apparently saw it beyond her pride to sic Kayneth at him and only passed him a brief glance.

Nevertheless, this meant that the one he stole the relic from was already here and he was probably pretty peeved about it, too. Well, this time Waver wasn't defenseless and, thanks to Rider's choice of transportation, could avoid engaging his attention for a while...

"Master?" Dragonrider's voice boomed from beneath his armor, causing the student to jump a bit in place. The giant figure was looking at him, likely worried or at the very least curious. Not like Waver could tell.

"G-geez, what are you doing trying to give me a heart attack, Rider?" The young Master shook his head with a small huff.

"You look pale."

"And you don't look at the road! What, do you wanna run over someone?!"

"I keep this van under perfect control." As if to flaunt that fact, the armored figure took one hand off the steering wheel and - despite Waver's blackest expectations - kept an even, straight and appropriately fast course, even stopping to let an elderly couple cross the road.

"Still no reason to show off."

"Master, something is nagging at you, I can see it from here." This time, Dragonrider returned his gaze towards the street to not further provoke the pointless argument. "Is it about the other Servant in the vicinity?"

"...what?" Was... was that old man a Servant?

"The one in the moving chair." Rider nodded, as if reading his thoughts. "Quite a strong presence for such an innocent appearance, but... that should not be an issue. His Master knows better than to engage us in the middle of the city and at such hour."

"That lady probably isn't a Master though." Waver shook his head. "If anything, he would park himself... somewhere grand; ideally right in the middle of the city to minimize the risk of attacks from other Masters."

"That makes sense." The armored giant agreed.

"Er, red light means you have to stop."

"Apologies. Such knowledge was not conveyed to me after summoning." Heeding the public order, the camper van stopped, waiting for the pedestrians to cross the road again.

* * *

"Who is Kiritsugu Emiya?"

Kirei blinked. Well, that was a question that frankly took him off guard. A little bit, just a little bit.

He was summoned by his father, the overseer of the whole conflict, into his church. Apparently there has been a fairly unusual situation that needed to be solved, as quickly as possible. Tokiomi was invited as well, but due to a fairly shaky ground that was the beginning of the Grail War it was decided that Kirei and Assassin will be the one to assess the situation.

Archer had already warned them that, oddly enough, the city center is crawling with strong magical signatures, unmistakably those of Servants. As such, Assassin stayed around in physical form to be ready at a moment's notice. Although the chance of some reckless Master ambushing them in the middle of the day was small, neither Tokiomi nor Kirei wanted to take any chances.

"Master?" Assassin, in a dark blue hoodie regarded him with a fairly blank expression.

"...one of the other Masters." The priest shrugged briefly, moving the very moment the traffic light turned green, sparing a brief glance at the camper van in front of them. "Supposedly the one we should be on the look out for."

"Why so?"

"He is known as The Magus Killer." A moment of silence as they moved forward. Assassin did not nag or rush him. "A rather peculiar individual, so to speak."

"Can you elaborate?"

"Tell me, Assassin... how do you regard an average Magus?" Another moment of silence. Assassin's eyes briefly darted towards a black-haired woman enjoying a crepe in the nearby cafe. Upon meeting her gaze, the woman looked back into the distance, nibbling at the delicacy.

"Judging by how Tokiomi Tohsaka acts..." She hummed, as if wondering about the answer. "That would be someone who believes in a set of methods once established as successful. To this end, such a person would refuse other ways even if that would compromise their general efficiency."

"Kiritsugu Emiya is not like that." Ah. So that was the reason her Master seemed so intrigued in that man, whoever he was and wherever he was. He was a little like that Emiya, too. Not a proper Magus, someone - by his own admission - with no real desire to obtain the Grail, someone fairly out of place in this grandiose conflict.

That Grail thing... it was a fickle thing. Supposedly it chose the Masters it wanted to participate in the conflict, somehow. Those seven and their Servants... some would be given a chance to wish for a miracle. The others would be cast aside into paths of oblivion.

It gave Ciaran really, really bad vibes.

* * *

Gascoigne was bemused, to put it lightly.

His Master reeked of blood. Such smell brought his downfall back in a day and still tempted him, but this blood was different. This blood didn't reek of men or beasts... it was something else entirely, something which almost repelled Berserker away.

Worms. Familiars, tons upon tons upon tons of them. They crunched against his teeth, spoiled the taste and it didn't seem like even a prolonged moment of tasting his Master's blood managed to do away with more of these horrific little things. He had to find alternate means since, well, Kariya's condition was poor even fresh into the Grail War. Berserker feared to think what would come after two days... a week... later...

Were there even some?

He felt some sort of kinship with this twisted, crippled shade. He couldn't quite decipher it. Was it their collective madness, a concept strange as it might have sounded, that helped them understand each other? Maybe it was something else?

Well, no matter. For now they had to meet the presence ahead. Well, he had to. Kariya had to remain hidden for he was of no real support in a fight and risking his life just for being there was foolish at best. Who knew just what Servant would they meet?

He stood in the docks of the city, taking a moment to appreciate the layout of the area of imminent conflict. He couldn't quite see per se, his vision being obscured by the old bandages that not even he remembered tying, but he could sense its very nature, if that made any sense. The plague that had once transformed him into the very being he hated brought some advantages over normal human flesh.

He didn't see just shapes. He could feel of what metal the containers were made of, if they were hollow or full and just what could be hidden within. These small, largely unnecessary pieces of trivia were putting him at ease.

The presence intensified. They were here. Gascoigne regarded the two. Women, one of them a Servant. Both clad in civilian clothes, but at the same time the taller one carried a sword and shield with her. A Saber? Could have also been a Rider or maybe some other specimen who tried to even out the differences with cunning... maybe he was looking too much into it.

* * *

Irisviel was understandably nervous.

This was it: Saber was staring down another Servant, presumably a Berserker. The tall, imposing man radiated a powerful, stunning stench of blood... but at the same time, his moves were calm and collected, like that of a mechanism that only prepares for a fight. By comparison, she was fidgeting a lot.

She couldn't catch Berserker's Master anywhere with her sight. He likely decided to stay out of trouble not unlike Saber's. Of course, they couldn't know that Iri was merely a scapegoat. The gloves on her hands obscured any chance of discovering the ruse.

By comparison, Lucatiel seemed calm if cautious. A Berserker was not someone to be taken lightly. Even if perceived by many Magi as the weakest of classes, it was strong enough to keep up with them physically and that was what mattered for her. He had no armor, but that likely meant that he was faster than his posture would indicate.

They eyed themselves for a couple of moments; for a given value of the word. The air grew ever so thicker.

The first conflict of this war was to begin.

* * *

 **And there, I guess. Hope you like it.  
**


	4. YOU DIED

**Sheesh, about time we proceed with some fighting. ^_^;**

* * *

Lucatiel stared Berserker down. The tension seemed to grow with every passing second as they circled on the same path, glaring daggers at each other. Despite the blindfold over his eyes, Saber was without a doubt certain that he could see her as well as she could him. The question was, who would strike first?

Was she faster than this oddly-dressed Servant of the enemy? That remained to be seen. Irisviel was standing a short distance away from the conflict and there was no doubt that Berserker's Master was somewhere in the vicinity. Hiding.

Would she be able to protect Iri should the enemy betray the chivalrous code and attempt to strike her down instead?

"Fear not for your Master's safety." The gray-haired man spoke, surprising her completely. A Berserker capable of coherent speech, let alone one so... serene, all things considering? "If she stays out of harm's way, she will not fall." Lucatiel replied with a terse nod before a wave of magic enveloped her. Soon she wore familiar clothes again. Yes, now she felt more like herself.

"Your kindness is appreciated." She finally spoke, brandishing her weapons. A sword and a shield of a Mirrah knight; trusty and reliable. They might have been nothing extraordinary compared to whatever Berserker would use against her, but they would be enough. They have always been enough. Even a God can be killed with them, as far as she knew.

The man brandished his own weapon in kind: it was a poleaxe of sorts, seemingly crude, but very solid. A slow, but long-ranged weapon. If not for the faint aura of madness around him, Saber could honestly think the enemy Servant was a Lancer.

Lucatiel and Irisviel exchanged glances, then the white-haired maiden took a step back, nodding to her "Servant".

"We may begin then." With a traditional Mirrah salute, blond-haired warrior bowed and approached her opponent slowly. Berserker bowed in kind, differently from her, but that probably was of little surprise. It seemed that they were of two entirely different lands.

It was time for the battle to begin.

* * *

Assassin watched the unfolding battle with a Mirrah knightess and the man of blood from a nearby tower, perched at its very edge.

Her orders were to scout out for Servants and Masters that would inevitably appear at this very first conflict of the Grail War. No interference was to be undertaken, at least for now.

Saber's Master didn't bother hiding, likely confident of her Servant's ability. She was likely almost equally in the dark about their realm of living as her own Master was, so that was either naivete or a lot of faith put in someone Ciaran couldn't say she recognized. As far as she knew it could be any Mirrah warrior. They all wore those silly feathered hats. Of course, the very flow of time and space was a fickle thing, so perhaps she was someone long past her age, past her lifespan. It felt odd thinking about the future in this prospect.

She quickly found Berserker's - for a given value of the word - Master as well. Hidden not too far away from the main conflict, he was too conveniently-placed to be omitted as a simple homeless man.

And then there were those two humans perched on the other side, well-hidden for other humans and maybe even other Servants. But Ciaran was not an other Servant. They seemed focused on the conflict below although the man with the rifle - that's how the weapon was called - also seemed to scout out for other targets. At some point he spotted her, but remained as unmoving as ever, likely under an impression that Assassin would try to stop them from doing something funny.

Who were they? Either of the Masters' hired thugs? That seemed almost contrary to what she knew of the mages of this world. Her Master's words also seemed to reinforce th-wait a second.

...

How clever. Then again, Ciaran of all people should have known better. The Magus Killer was a he and explictly not an Einzbern as the woman posing as Saber's Master. The real mastermind was hidden from sight, monitoring the situation. The woman accompanying him was likely an accomplice of sorts then.

Even so, Assassin was not to interfere. If something went wrong, Gough was observing the area from a further distance, ready to notch and release an arrow. That probably would not be necessary, but Ciaran appreciated having a friend having her back.

For now, she watched.

* * *

As the battle raged on in the docks, Tokiomi Tohsaka weighed his options.

Truly, the situation was growing more and more bizarre with each passing hour. To think there would be such a thing as a stray Servant seeking shelter within the Church normally reserved for Servantless Masters... truly bizarre.

When Risei sent him a notification that there was a pressing matter to attend to, he sent in Kirei with Assassin's assist. As it turned out, a Caster and what could only be described as a wraith almost as strong as an actual Servant remained there, having killed their previous Master to, curiously, save a child offered to them as sacrifices. It seemed that the short-lived Master was clueless about the war and merely summoned them out of coincidence.

Still, to see a Servant show such compassion for an unaffiliated civilian, not even a Magus... but then again, as someone who had a daughter, Tokiomi could understand it, to an extent. He made sure that both Aoi and Rin were evacuated from Fuyuki before the war began, much to the latter's displeasure. He would explain in due time, he supposed.

What about Caster and her own Servant, so to say, then? Tokiomi hoped that they could be convinced to cooperate. Neither he nor Kirei could establish another contract without breaking the previous one, but having such an ally on the side, if only to a small extent, could very much prove beneficial. Casters were probably better off that way in most cases, just quietly monitoring the events and taking action from the shadows. Of course, that birthed another question: just what could Tokiomi offer to a Servant other than a Grail itself?

Archer seemed content with just serving and mentioned he has no real wish to fulfill. Assassin shared the similar sentiment although something about her own confession seemed untrustworthy. Perhaps there was something, a deep-hidden desire she wanted to not share. If convinced to let go of it, Tokiomi could then offer Caster whatever she wished.

And there was no doubt she wished for something. Kirei - strangely moved by his encounter with her - described her as someone deeply religious, someone who regrets the past. Some sort of unfinished business in the past, most likely. She seemed kind of happy to see his student, even, as a fellow priest.

Of course, given how bizarre and strange the Servants summoned were, that did little to reveal her true name. Even so, Tokiomi doubted it would tell him anything.

* * *

Sola-Ui was furious.

Was Kayneth really that much of a coward? Did he continue to doubt Lancer's ability to fight? Has he not figured out that the wheelchair was but a masquerade, a form the old Servant was simply comfortable with?

It seemed obvious to her, at the very least. It had to be a masquerade. She had yet to see Lancer fight, but as much as she spited her fiance - eugh - she was confident in his ability to summon a Servant strong enough to match all the others. She was married to him _because_ he was such an accomplished Magus and because her family saw fit to pit her with him, as much as she found the concept abhorrent.

Of course, her initial response was that of enthusiasm. Kayneth was rich, skilled and, as much as she hated to admit it, caring. It seemed like the entire empathy he had he decided to focus on her and disregard everything else. In a sense, this striked Sola's fancy. Attention was something she craved.

But then, as days passed by, she found him increasingly boring. He did his best to appease her and he surely was creative in doing so, but his very person, his essence... it all was just so... unremarkable. Strange, considering his position in the Association. One would think she would remain interested in him longer, if only for the riches and the social status, but no: Kayneth Archibald was about as interesting as a boulder.

Disappointment quickly became irritation and irritation swiftly transferred into dislike. He didn't seem aware of the fact and by this angered Sola even further. Soon, she became wrapped up in the War and the rest was history.

Well, at the very least she was out of harm's way.

As a result of his cowardly tactic, Kayneth only sent in a number of familiars to survey the area where the first battle was taking place. Quickly, three Servants have been identified: Saber, Assassin and a surprisingly sane Berserker. There was also Saber's Master, a woman of Einzbern. Assassin mostly seemed to just survey the area and keep tabs on the battle rather than get involved.

Lancer, mostly indifferent about the conflict, perked up a little when the Berserker was mentioned. Quite so, according to familiars' reception, their clothes weren't too different. When the blindfold was mentioned, a knowing smile appeared on elderly Servant's face as if he knew the identity of Berserker in question. Kayneth, for some reason, decided to not question him further.

Well, they could only wait by now.

* * *

Lucatiel was making progress.

Her opponent was matching her in speed and was way stronger than her: every swing of his axe rippled the air something fiercely. His rhythm, however, was fairly predictable. It was almost as if Berserker feared letting go of it.

She used her shield mostly to block whatever she could afford to while dodging away from anything that she thought could stagger her figure for a kill. Both of them favored a defensive approach but ultimately it was Berserker who attacked with more ferocity, more often.

Seeing this imposing man do battle... it was almost as if she saw something only half-human.

Saber moved to the side to avoid a slamming strike that crushed the asphalt under the axe into powder. The poleaxe, dragged through the ground with a screech swung in an effort to catch up with her, but she was already out of the way, the distance between them increasing to neutral again. As it turned out, Berserker's reach did little to help him.

"Hm. I guess we have a bit of an impasse." The gray-haired man straightened himself up, setting the axe on the ground.

"Do we now?" Saber mirrored the gesture, briefly glancing towards Irisviel. The white-haired woman watched the battle from the sidelines, trying her best to look hopeful for her. It was a welcome gesture.

"You haven't been too active on offense, Saber. I, in turn, cannot break your defense." With a low chuckle, Berserker grabbed the poleaxe in both arms and then... pulled on both ends. In a moment, the upper half of the axe separated from the pole itself as the lower part vanished into nothingness of magic. "I suppose I will have to kick it up the notch then, if you wish to remain hidden behind your shield." With those words he charged in, his weapon shorter, but much faster. It was still Berserker's old pace, but the attacks were swifter, as was to be expected from a lighter and smaller weapon.

Pushed to complete defensive, Lucatiel didn't find it hard to notice that Irisviel looked that much more concerned. No matter. She would not fail. She perhaps wasn't anyone special, but she was still a Mirrah knightess, a fine enough warrior to combat Berserker's savage fighting style.

She fought much worse.

* * *

Even a Magus as mediocre as Waver could tell that the docks tonight weren't a good place to go.

The whole harbor emanated with powerful signatures, obviously befitting those of Servants. There were only two, as far as Rider was concerned, but that was still two too much. Frankly, Waver was getting way more nervous now that the war has actually started. He was so in over his head. He, an excuse of a Magus, with a Servant that he could only describe as weak despite his strong presence...

Or perhaps he was just thinking that Dragonrider was weak? He couldn't afford to see everything in such bleak colors. Nameless or not, Rider was still a Servant, a Heroic Spirit, a warrior mighty as a mountain.

And, as it turned out, was more than willing to be a dirty stinking cheater.

"There is no need for magical mounts and phantasmal vehicles if we can use the mundane." He tapped the steering wheel briefly. They have stopped just outside the city on a small cliff overlooking the docks, with Waver observing the situation via binoculars. There wasn't much he could make out of it, but it was most likely due to the fact that Servants fighting was a sight simply uncatchable by a human eye.

He did notice a faint shape of a white figure standing a bit to the side, likely one of the Masters.

"Still, er... isn't that plan of yours a bit... er..." Deep breath, Waver. "Well, frankly it is quite insane."

"I'd rather not take any chances. Do you, Master?" No, the student did not. He was hopelessly outmatched by just about anyone else in this conflict. Hell, apart from Kayneth he didn't even know who the other contestants were.

"Of course, this is mostly a contingency plan." Rider shrugged his broad shoulders. "The opponents might prove beatable with orthodox means."

"I don't know if "might" is what we're looking for."

"I don't know if we have anything else." Good point. "The figures at the docks are none I recognize, sadly. I only know that Saber is of Mirrah."

"What is that?"

"A land east of Drangleic, a kingdom of knights." Dragonrider explained, tapping the steering wheel rhythmically. "It houses very fine warriors, or so it did back in a day. Hardened with battles."

"That's not reassuring." Waver pointed out dejectedly.

"Really, I could say all of us Servants are." Rider shrugged again, shifting a little in his seat. How was he fitting in it, that Waver did not know. "Seems Saber is gaining an advantage." The student looked through his binoculars. As expected, not much could be seen other than faint blurs. He couldn't even tell if the white figurine of a Master did something notable.

* * *

Berserker's pace remained repetitive. Lucatiel could feel it well now.

They spent a bit more time dueling, but even with the gray-haired man switching between his fighting styles she could feel the rhythm of his attacks; block and evade them appropriately. Not even a sudden change of his axe would make it any different. She knew by now.

Her steps became more confident as she swiftly moved out of crushing blows' way. She could not hope to sneak in an attack through Berserker's flurry of strikes, but such frequency made him vulnerable to being opened up with a single parry. All she needed to do was to time in with his attack, move her shield accordingly... and that would be enough to end Berserker's participation in the war.

Step to the left. Back. Roll. Block. It all clicked together. In a few seconds, she would be able to follow up on that.

Berserker swung his axe downward. This was it! Lucatiel stepped forward, her shield moving aside rather than staying close to her to block the attack, something that violated common sense...

Except his weapon moved aside as well. Although his eyes were hidden, there was no mistaking a change in his facial expression: he was not at all prepared for this maneuver. The time around them slowed as Lucatiel moved for the killing blow, the blade pushing through to meet Berserker's chest...

And then, out of nowhere, he batted her sword away with... something quite like a club. Held in his other hand, it brushed the blade just enough to miss his chest and only strike his arm with a pained hiss. The club had an opening at its front, as if it was some sort of... miniature... ca... nnon...

Saber froze, the eyes behind her mask widening.

"Too proud to show your true face, eh?" Although his pained, there was triumph and satisfaction in Berserker's voice. "But a sporting hunt, it was."

There was a small click, a loud bang, a moment of excruciating pain... and then everything went black.

* * *

Was this... was this really happening?

Irisviel just stood there, completely and utterly shocked as Saber's body, her head turned into bloody chunks, was flung backwards by the buckshot from Berserker's... firearm and crashed down onto the ground, motionless. What... what was all this? What was happening? Although she still had trouble perceiving the battle between the two, she could see the brief stop when Lucatiel parried away Berserker's blow... and then, as if on cue, her opponent brought out a gun. An ordinary firearm wouldn't be able to harm a Servant... but one wielded by them and being their own weapon was as deadly as any other weapon.

She dropped to her knees, a truly despaired expression on her face. Some part of her desperately wanted to believe that this is just Saber's plan to catch Berserker off-guard; perhaps some sort of gambit that she was unaware of. It wouldn't end so suddenly... so quickly, right?

"That will be all." The man dismissed his weapons, holding his arm. The blood was still dripping from the wound and through his fingers. "Whoever she was, she was a good prey." Berserker bowed again, this time addressing Irisviel. "Stay out of trouble, young one. You were defeated." With those words said, his form vanished into the night.

As he disappeared, so did Saber's body, fading away into red dust.

* * *

Above the finished battle, Kiritsugu Emiya clicked his tongue nervously.

Things just got that much more complicated.


	5. The Holy Maiden

Yesterday evening surely has been eventful.

Kayneth drummed his fingers on the armchair, thinking. Already one of the Servants has been eliminated, and in such a bizarre manner. To think a Servant, let alone a Berserker, would wield a firearm? The thought alone striked as ridiculous. He hasn't heard of a single Heroic Spirit that would drop down so low as to use something so... undignified.

Kayneth was a textbook Magus from a long-lived and esteemed generation of Magi. To him, technology was something he actively despised. He remembered one time he caught one of his students with one of those little audio recorders, so-called walkmans. The insolent boy was expelled in a matter of three days since.

The very thought that a Servant would possess a gun, no matter how crude and antiquated, just baffled him.

As it turned out, Lancer was familiarized with the not-so-mad warrior, calling him an accomplice of sorts. He didn't elaborate further and Kayneth saw the elaboration mostly unnecessary. All that interested him was that his Servant had knowledge of Father Gascoigne - that was Berserker's name, supposedly - and the ability to fight him off without troubles.

On Sola-Ui's request he finally agreed to send Lancer out for scouting. Perhaps he did allow his anger to cloud his better judgment... to a small extent.

It didn't matter. For now he could wait and see if any of the Masters decided to do something careless. There was also an issue of that pesky Velvet snooping around. He still needed to teach that little thieving rat a lesson.

He could only hope that he was having an equally hard time as him.

* * *

Waver Velvet was indeed having a bad time.

"We should have killed him." Rider commented flatly, tuning in the radio. Apparently the previous owner of their camper van was someone... fairly influential in some town called Osaka and was visiting Fuyuki on a vacation, whatever that was. Right after he regained consciousness - took him a couple of days - he called up the police station and... well, now Waver and Rider had Fuyuki Police Department looking for the hijacked vehicle.

"Oh I didn't expect the police of all things to get involved..." Waver groaned, smacking his forehead against the panel. "This is beautiful, truly wonderful. From flood into fire."

"I suppose we will have to change our mode of locomotion."

"And what, beat the living daylights out of another hapless driver?" His Master had a fair point, true. "Ugh... if you could take that armor off, we could just find some random house. I'd charm the residents and we wouldn't have to drive around like criminals."

"To that I cannot agree." Of course he couldn't agree. Waver almost wanted to use a Command Seal. Why not? Rider was actively obstructing their plan. Better yet, he was endangering them both.

And yet something told him to hold that decision for a while.

"Alright. What do you propose, Rider?"

"You've mentioned using a charm spell to bend others' will to your bidding."

"W-well, I didn't quite put it this way, but-"

"What about charming the vehicle itself?"

"...what." Alright, now Waver was beginning to have doubts whether his Servant was insane or just stupid. Despite his flabbergasted expression, he couldn't think that Rider was just taking a cheap shot at him. As much as his plans were... odd and unorthodox, he always remained serious.

"If you can exert your will upon single subjects that can presumably move to their own ability where they please... you could also exert that ability to a certain area."

"...WHAT."

"In short, even though the people may see vehicle, the charm would have them forget that was the one they looked for."

Okay, Waver had to admit; it made some sort of sense. Casting such a spell wasn't out of the possibility, even if it required some time to prepare and even if Rider described it kind of oddly.

If he could charm a couple of people... he could surely do the same with a camper van of all things.

"And if that fails, well, we will have to acquire another vehicle instead." At least Rider had a contingency plan. Sorta.

* * *

After the last night, Kariya felt that he honestly deserves a pat on the back for the job well-done.

Well, _he_ didn't do jack, all things considering. All the praise went to Berserker who was able to fight off and defeat Saber, one of the strongest classes, right off the bat. He didn't get out of it unscathed and Kariya's heart did skip a beat when it seemed that it will be Saber who will be victorious.

And then Berserker pulled a blunderbuss on her.

How did he have it was beyond Kariya's reasoning, but damnit, it worked like a charm. As far as he knew, an ordinary gun wouldn't leave a scratch on even the weakest Servants... but if it was magical, it worked just like any other weapon they could wield.

He kind of pitied that white-haired woman. She looked really distraught.

Well, something told him that he would get that look many times, if things go well. At the very least, it was one less Master to worry about.

Now there was a matter of trying to heal Berserker's wound. Kariya wasn't really a Magus; more like a person with prana instead. He had no real knowledge of Magecraft and he doubted ordinary first aid - of what little he knew it - would do.

"...I guess your blood would do, Master." The gray-haired man grunted, tapping his neck lightly. Kariya raised an eyebrow. Last time they tried it didn't seem like Berserker finds it too appealing.

But desperate times called for desperate measures.

* * *

The plan has changed.

The loss of Saber threw Kiritsugu off only for a moment. Really, perhaps it was for the better now that he thought about it.

He was well-aware of Caster and her quasi-Servant familiar holed up in the Church. Wasn't that the strangest of refugees to ever be housed there? Normally, Overseer's care was reserved only for Servantless Masters who wished to forfeit the conflict. Of course, having a Servantless Master that Irisviel has just become - so to say - and a Masterless Servant made for an easy puzzle.

There was however a question as to how pull that stunt off. Somehow, they - well, Iri - had to convince Caster to join their cause, but also to keep the Overseer from spotting them doing just that. Command Seals remained on a Master's hand should their Servant perish, so to try and make someone without them a Master would violate the rules and put them under lot of trouble.

Kiritsugu preferred to not bomb the church if he didn't have to.

Maiya was to accompany her as a shadow, tailing her moves and providing a distraction should Iri find herself ambushed by the enemy. Now, the only factor that troubled the true representative of the Einzbern was Irisviel's own mental condition.

It seemed she was fond of Saber, perhaps quite mutually so. Seeing her die in such an undignified manner left her noticeably shaken. As cynical as it was to think like this, Kiritsugu thought of it as a lesson for his wife. A Servant is a tool before they are a person. Getting attached to one as if they were friends could only lead to trouble.

Here was the hoping that nothing else would transpire to make things that much more difficult.

* * *

 _My name is Lucatiel of Mirrah. I am the second children out of three, second to take up the mantle of a knight._

 _Born in indigance, I strived hard to become strong. In Mirrah, the kingdom of a sword and shield, to be strong is to be able to achieve mastery of the blade, to protect those who have yet to reach it and those who will never be given such a chance._

 _My brother, Aslatiel, succeeded. Recognized as the greatest sword of all the Mirrah, he had everything that a knight could; strength, wealth, compatriots. He had it all.  
_

 _...but then, the Curse of the Undeath struck him._

 _To be an Undead is to be an outsider, to be ostracized. No position can save from such fate. Nobody really knows how does the curse spread, can it be stopped, can it be delayed. Well, yes; to delay it however one must gorge themselves on souls, humanity... it has various names, but it's always associated with one's very being. To trespass there is to walk a very narrow path... and if one reaches a point of no return, they become a Hollow._

 _An Undead has a unique property: they do not perish when fatally struck. Rather, they return to "life" at a bonfire - a curious place supposedly linked to old flames that made the Age of Fire possible. Each death brings such an Undead closer to Hollowing however. What is a Hollow, you ask? It is naught but a mindless shell, one who seeks souls and nothing else. Unlike an Undead, there is no pity or a second chance. A killed Hollow returns to the "living" no longer._

 _There is no way to reverse Hollowing. Aslatiel set out on a mission to find a cure for it altogether, so that next generations would not suffer from such denigration._

 _He was never heard from again. I set out after him once I have become an Undead and to find the cure myself, but during my journeys... there seemed to be no such thing. I do not remember my last moments, nor do I wish to._

 _I am no hero. There were countless like me; stricken with the undeath and withering their senses away... but this time I will make a difference._

 _My death changes nothing. I will return back into Irisviel's service._

* * *

Astraea read in silence.

She has been studying the scripture yet again, to make sure she understands it fully. There was no room for error or misinterpretation; she strived to be a saint and nothing less.

As always, Garl stood by her without a word, sometimes asking if she is in need of anything. It was endearing, but mostly needless: as a Servant Caster found herself without needs to eat, drink or sleep. She only had the glass of water with her, occassionally taking a sip from it.

And then, the door of the Church has opened.

Caster looked at the new visitor. Undoubtedly it had to be a Master. A white-haired woman, of pale complexion, in a white jacket. Definitely distraught, but there was something of a determined look on her face.

There was a moment of silence.

"...are you Caster?" The woman addressed her. How did she know? Then again, it was not like Astraea wore contemporary clothing.

"Yes. Who are you to ask?"

"My name is Irisviel von Einzbern. I was a Master of Saber before she was eliminated." A pause. "...I... wish to make a contract with you." Hm. It made sense. Somehow, she caught wind of Caster's presence here and decided to turn her defeat into a triumph. Any other Master could not try to do such a thing on the grounds that they still had their Servants to begin with.

"Why should we follow you, Irisviel?" Astraea asked back. "You have been defeated."

"Maybe so, but..." Caster knew that this woman was certainly not like her former Master of whom she disposed of; there was a further goal behind her fragile exterior. Conviction. Determination. "Presumably, if I could enlist the aid of someone who could help me with my... wish..." The brief hesitation did not escape Caster's attention.

"Is it truly yours?" Irisviel withstood Astraea's gaze for a couple of moments before looking away. "I see."

"You are mistaken, actually." A moment of silence. "I have a wish of my own."

"Is that so...?" Caster offered a tiny smile. "Please. Do tell, Irisviel."

"I wish to help one who can save the world, bring comfort to those in need. With his ability and Grail's divine power... a perfect world could be realized."

Garl looked at the white-haired maiden from behind his visor. Oh, Astraea had a weakness for such words and he could not blame her. While the tortured souls in the Valley of Defilement were provided with as much comfort as she could muster, it was simply not enough to turn their lives away from the misery. As they suffered, so did Astraea; scorning herself for being unable to provide more help.

To have a prospect of providing help to all? That sounded appealing.

Even so, Caster hesitated. Perhaps the woman in front of her seeked to trick her into whatever ulterior motive she or her superior could have? People were selfish; they desired power, wealth, immortality... sometimes they just wished to destroy, like the red-haired victim of her wrath.

But no, something made Astraea believe her. Perhaps the sweet words of a promise. Maybe it was her pure demeanor, almost unnaturally so. Maybe she just wished to try and make a difference.

"...very well, Irisviel von Einzbern." She nodded. "Hold out your hand."

* * *

Behind her porcelain mask, Ciaran frowned.

This certainly was not something either her Master nor Tokiomi would appreciate; Caster being snatched from under their noses. The perpetrator was none other than the white-haired woman posing as the Master of deceased Saber. It made some sense; a Master could contract another Servant as long as they had Command Seals.

But this woman had no Command Seals at all. She was a mere figurehead. Could she acquire them from nothing somehow? Perhaps Caster had her previous Master's hand stashed somewhere to be used as a conduit? Assassin couldn't say she knew.

Then there was the problem of Saber herself. She was almost certainly an Undead. The question was as such: could an Undead made into a Servant come back from demise as one? If yes, that made the faction of Magus Killer that much stronger. With two, no, three Servants at their disposal, they could conduct war rather than battles.

Perhaps the Grail disallowed this, but Ciaran could not afford herself to be optimistic. It was a good time to fall back and report. Another time, perhaps she could capture that black-haired woman hidden in the shadows and see to interrogati-

The blade of the scythe was swift, but not swift enough to strike her. Assassin jolted back, drawing both Tracers and leaning forward. It seemed other Servants and their Masters were getting bolder by the minute.

"'tis a nice night, isn't it, masked one?" Lancer chuckled, casually removing his weapon's blade from the tree it etched into.

"I have no ill will with you, Lancer." Assassin grunted in response. The aged man in clothing not unlike that of Berserker's merely offered another chuckle.

"Such an odd sentence to hear from a Servant." The scythe was simply made, but elegant; a deadly weapon befitting even the reaper itself.

But Ciaran was determined to not die here, not so soon.

"I was only to scout, but a spar with a deadly purpose is nothing to scoff at either." Lancer mused, cracking his neck a little. "Ready yourself."

* * *

 **This fic still lives, I swear. . It's just hard to come up with a proper, inspired work sometimes. I'll try to update it now and then to keep you guys entertained. ^_^; Do not forget to review if you'd be so kind.  
**


	6. Plotting

This was truly a precarious situation.

Assassin considered herself a fairly accomplished fighter, but she had doubts about being able to fend off a Knight Class. Her main ability was her agility and Lancers just so happened to excel in that. He wielded no ordinary polearm either, but a scythe; a weapon that only a true master could operate with full proficiency.

If he was in any way related to Berserker, there was a chance that it is not the only form of his weapon _and_ he probably was in possession of a firearm as well. This stand-off was not going to end well for her unless she was quick enough on her feet.

Here was hoping that Gough had an arrow nocked in case she wasn't.

* * *

Maiya slowly left the position, seeing as Lancer got Assassin's attention, nevertheless prepared to lay down suppressive fire if need to.

She had no illusions about making it out of the situation alive should it came down to this though. That was alright. She was fully prepared to throw her life on the line and was doing that ever since she became Kiritsugu's. Thankfully it seemed that she would get to fight another day: Lancer seemed disinterested with both her, Madame or Caster and her familiar.

These Servants... they were not at all what she expected them to be. She had a rudimentary understanding of the Grail War, what was it about, who was participating and so on and so forth... but the Servants in question were not of this world, quite literally so. They were legends of worlds everybody seemed unaware of. As far as Maiya or anyone else knew, nothing was known about them other than what they were willing to reveal themselves.

She was aware of Irisviel's conversation with the Servant within the Church; she was told to plant an audio recorder on her to monitor the situation. In case something would go wrong - say, Caster would prove to be hostile - she would be immediately informed and could plan accordingly. Thankfully this proved to not be the case.

Here they were, leaving the Church. Frankly, Maiya was a bit surprised as to why was the Church Overseer doing nothing in the situation? It was certainly welcome, but suspicious. A trap? A part of a greater scheme?

Lancer was surely taking his sweet time taking on Assassin, that much was certain. Maiya moved into another position, a shadow behind Irisviel and her Servant/s.

* * *

They were two other Servants in the vicinity.

Garl was fairly certain that Astraea was aware of their presence. It seemed like the two were in a stand-off with each other. Perhaps one of them was supposed to keep watch of their new Master - such a strange word to say - and the other interrupted that task? If they were fighting, they would know.

And to make matters worse, somebody else - a human - was tailing them as well.

Well, as long as neither of the enemy Servants decided to try and engage them, they should be fine.

He glanced at the white-haired woman who became their Master. Ever since the ritual she seemed significantly weakened. As it was proven, she was not a Master before their contract and it seemed she simply might not be able to provide too much energy of her own. Granted, both he and Astraea required little sustenance, but it would be ideal that Irisviel's condition improved soon. For now his beloved helped the white-haired maiden walk alongside them, hand on her shoulder meant to support her.

Garl was not convinced if leaving this Church was a good solution. Even if Irisviel herself was innocent and well-meaning, and even if the one who sent her here was a man who meant well, just what manner did he conduct himself with? Was he aware that the red-eyed woman was having difficulties being a Master in the first place? How much was he willing to go to achieve the noble goal of saving all?

How many would escape his self-righteous purgation of ones meant to die in the name of all?

"Irisviel... what of the woman stalking us?" Astraea asked once they were a fair distance away from both the Church and the pair of Servants still at a standstill.

"...she's... she's with me." Even in such pitiful state she was able to muster a smile. Garl could admire such a quality, to brave through even the direst of times. "She brought me here." With that she gestured towards a rather nice automobile parked a bit on the side, hidden from less watchful eyes.

Something about this... car, as it was called, unsettled Garl. Of course, such a thing would not leave a scratch on him nor Astraea should it crash, by accident or deliberately, but... being boxed in a fast-moving vehicle? It could certainly get a little claustrophobic in such a machine.

* * *

"Looks like they are making their exit." Lancer was playing with her, really. Although his stance suggested that he could come and attack right away, he was more content with merely assessing the situation happening under their noses. That made Ciaran all the more uneasy. The pose was something of a contrapposto, the way Lancer both seemed ready to lunge forward and yet remained casually in place, discussing with her.

"That seems to be the case." She did not look away from the old man, fearful of the very moment her eyes would find a distraction for him to use.

After few more terse moments he came with an opening strike, but it was not with a scythe that he wielded just a moment ago, but a curved blade not unlike her Tracers. Assassin swiftly moved out of the way, ready for another dodge, but the next attack didn't come. It seemed that Lancer was merely testing her swiftness.

And, worse of all, his weaponry was even more diverse than that of Berserker.

"I would expect no less celerity from an Assassin." The old man chuckled, returning to that annoying contrapposto. Ciaran said nothing, shifting a little to the left, ready to make a run for it to a more open area where Gough would have a better ability to shoot. "And no smaller terseness."

"Hold your tongue if you have nothing worthy to say."

Another moment of silence and Lancer attacked again, again with such deadly swiftness. This time he went for a number of blows, all of them carefully dodged by Ciaran (if a little narrowly in some cases). He remained true to the curved sword, likely having deduced the scythe to be a little too impractical in such crowded surroundings. Perhaps it was for the better.

And yet, even as he attacked, she couldn't help but think he was not taking her seriously at all.

Lancer stepped away again, rolling his shoulder. "As we fight I still cannot quite discern where are you from. Has the chalice really summoned people from worlds unknown to do battle?" His pose relaxed a little, but Ciaran made no mistake to try and punish him for letting his guard down; the old man was as sharp as her Tracer. "That does not seem right, does it?"

"Why does it matter, Lancer?"

"Curiosity of an old man, if you so wish to call it that." Another brief bout of silence. "But you do look familiar."

"That so?"

"More than you might know." And with those cryptic words Lancer went for another slash, and another, and another.

* * *

Apparently the Einzbern faction has beaten them to a punch.

Tokiomi was not angry, perhaps a little disappointed. It was bound to happen that someone would try their luck with stray Servants and all in all, he would prefer it to be Einzberns than some stray Magus with less-than-honorable intentions. Their own force was strong still. Kirei's Servant was ambushed by an enemy Lancer, but it did not seem like the latter had any real killing intent with her.

And if he did, Archer was ready to shoot at the moment's notice. He's been perched at the rooftop of Tohsaka residence with his gargantuan bow, light as a feather despite his towering frame. He had an arrow nocked for half an hour now and remained unmoving all the same.

Well, "arrow" was probably a bit of an understatement, considering that it looked like a sturdy spear rather. As Gough explained, such bows were made for dragon-hunting. To imagine what such a projectile could do to a human-sized target almost made Tokiomi a little sick.

And then the proclaimed dragonslayer materialized right in his room, as always sitting hunched to avoid hitting the ceiling. The red-clad Magus has since got used to these sudden appearances; the first few did make him spill his wine.

"Ciaran is returning here as we speak. Lancer saw fit to merely test her mettle." There was a small pause as Gough cleared his throat, the tone of his voice betraying a small amount of bemusement. "He was ill-satisfied, that rascal."

"Would you say that this assessment comes from arrogance or genuine skill?" Tokiomi asked back, regarding his Servant. Every bit of into they could get on the opposition was treasured, doubly so given that there were no real legends these men and women could be traced to.

"The latter, I am afraid. He moves swiftly, strikes strongly. Ciaran can keep up with him, but that is the extent of her ability."

"Then we will have to take notice of his Master." Mr. Tohsaka tapped his chair, thinking. "See what kind of Magus are they." A small pause. "But that will have to wait for now. We have to decide what to make of the Einzberns."

* * *

Kayneth continued being displeased.

Lancer's scouting brought some more information. The woman of Einzbern who lost her Saber yesterday has come in contact with a stray Servant - what a strange situation - and acquired her power for herself. Not only that, apparently said Servant - presumably a Caster - had a wraith-like familiar of her own who could easily be mistaken for a Servant himself. And to top it all off, after encountering a spying Assassin, Lancer chose to let her go rather than kill her what would be the sensible course of action.

"I see no reason to be angry." Gehrman was about as relaxed about the whole situation as Sola-Ui would expect him to.

SLAP. "You will be the death of me, Lancer!" Kayneth wiped his hand against the handkerchief, as if the old man's face was something repulsive and slimy. "It seemed simple enough to dispose of Assassin, wasn't it?"

"That it was." Gehrman remained impassive, merely giving his head a roll and returning to look his Master in the eye, unflinchable.

"Then what stayed your hand? Compassion? Senility?" Honestly, Sola thought he was being way too harsh for the Servant. Not that Lancer minded, but it just didn't sit right with the red-head. Quite entertaining, given that she would not hold her quietly-muttered insults when Kayneth was not around.

"Ha. You jest at my expense, but it might yet come in handy that Assassin still breathes." Lancer, having returned into his wheelchair has moved past Kayneth and towards a cupboard.

Sola thought that Kayneth's vein would pop in anger. "Do not just ignore me, you-!"

"Since when an esteemed Magus has a gun?" All exasparation and rage flew right away from the Magus as he regarded just what Lancer held in his hands: a rather finely-made revolver, caliber .38, customized.

"I..." Well, this was a little embarrassing. He, Kayneth Archibald El-Melloi, one of the finest Magi to walk amongst this generation, did in fact possess a rather mundane, almost vulgar firearm that most other users of Magecraft would spite with raging hatred. "Do not change the subject! And put that away!"

"Indeed, I strayed away from the topic at hand." Gehrman chuckled, idly examining the Webley. It was nothing like pistols of his time, but at the same time it felt strangely familiar. "Assassin and her Master could be used to deal with Caster's new Master. Whoever remains would be easy pickings for us."

"And who is to say that we won't be targets first?"

"Because Einzberns take priority. They've already lost a Servant and acquired yet another within a moment's notice. I presume that Assassin's Master wished to see Caster and her companion into their ranks instead, so there is also that." There was some sense into it, as much as Kayneth didn't want to admit it. "And, perhaps, you might want to give chase to Mr. Velvet." Now that was a good thing to distract oneself with.

"I suppose some entertainment is in order before we proceed with more serious matters..." Now that was just arrogance, Sola thought. As inept as Kayneth's student was, he still had a Servant of his own, no matter how weak. This war was not an ordinary one, after all, given how Einzbern's Saber has fallen so quickly. "Very well. I suppose your reasoning is sound, for the most part."

"And, if I may add something, some gun training is in order once that ordeal is complete." Master's brow raised. "Something tells me that we might need it."

* * *

Oh this was not good at all.

Waver gulped, regarding the situation. On a road overlooking the town, they just so had to stumble into another Servant.

To make it worse, it was the Berserker from yesterday night. His Master must have been the rather sickly-looking man illuminated by the lights of their camper van.

Judging by his expression, he wasn't all too happy about the incoming fight too.

"Stand back, my liege." Rider brandished his weapons slowly, a mighty halberd and a strong shield as he regarded the blindfolded Berserker do the same with his own poleaxe. There was no doubt that he could brandish his firearm at a moment's notice as well, but both Waver and Dragonrider knew that trick well already.

"Nothing personal, kid." The man in a purple hoodie smiled faintly as he reclined against the rockwall. There was something _wrong_ about his face and the student wasn't quite sure if he wanted to know. "I just can't afford to lose this war."

* * *

 **Wow I kept you guys waiting for a while. Sorry it took me so long, both real life and a lack of inspiration hit me really hard. Still, there you go. c:  
**


	7. The Grand Beginning

Waver Velvet did not like his chances.

For the record, it wasn't that he didn't trust Dragonrider to protect him, but at the end of the day he was unlikely to lend his Servant any hand at all. He was pretty sure that the opposing Master – the man who looked like he would topple over any second – had tricks up his sleeve.

...and then, after a tense moment with Berserker weighing the axe in his hand and Rider doing the same with his halberd and shield as they stared each other down... the weapons were lowered.

...what?

"Berserker?" The man on the other side of the fight seemed about as surprised as Waver.

"I don't think we have much need for conflict yet." Rider spoke for the blindfolded man. What? What?! That was it, Waver really had a Servant who was completely mad, and not in the good "at least it pays off" sense like Berserker would.

O irony, the opposing Berserker could not look more sane if he tried, even in spite of the mad aura about him.

"Now that Saber has fallen, the two of us are the weakest of the bunch." He spoke, resting the butt of the poleaxe on the ground. "Or, at the very least, our collective powers together with our Masters are nothing impressive." How reassuring. It seemed Berserker's Master shared the apprehension at being called the weakest. A thought not false, sadly.

"We could come to blows and one of us would win, but that is not necessarily what we want to do." Rider chimed in.

"Isn't that what this whole War is about?" Waver interjected, flabbergasted. It seemed however that Berserker's Master was beginning to understand what the two lumbering figures meant; his expression lightened up a little as he nodded slightly.

"Learn how to pick your battles." Dragonrider's voice grew thoughtful, curiously enough. "Finest of Vendrick we might have been, we were still nothing without unity and tactics. The giants could not be felled with mere strength. From Raime and Velstadt all the way down to a common man, we all had to think to match them."

"Hunters used to hunt in groups as well." Berserker took the role of a storyteller now. "At least, early on, but even on their own, one with enough wits and quick feet can handle themselves for a time." There was a brief moment of silence. "Point is... two small dogs may handle a big one in more probability than a single one could."

"So... what is this then? A truce?" Waver asked, still not quite sure if he fancied the idea. Yes, it was a sound one, but who was to say Berserker and his Master wouldn't turn on them in the hour of need?

"I... was thinking something more in lines of traveling together." Now it's the man in a hoodie who chose to interject. "I'm not too hot on this, but... hell, this might just work out. Holy shit, I just..." He started laughing, a chuckle cut short by a violent outburst of coughing. The man still managed to wheeze out another snort of a laugh as he slowly straightened himself out. "I wish I could have thought of this."

"What... what's happened to you?" Waver asked. He could have sworn he caught the glimpse of something writhing on the ground after the man coughed, but... that could have been just his eyesight playing tricks of him.

"...long story. If you guys have something warm on hand to drink..." Another cough. "I'll be more than willing to share."

"...what's your name anyway?" It was something of a trivial question, perhaps, but it was not letting Waver rest for some reason.

"Kariya. Matou Kariya."

* * *

The partner – or more like superior, Garl thought – of Irisviel seemed like a particularily tense individual.

Something... no, everything about him rubbed Astraea's knight the wrong way. The deadly and mat look in his eyes, the body language, the way he spoke of the whole ordeal completely disspassionately in spite of Irisviel's earlier assertions that if there was someone with the most heart put into this War, it would be him.

She, bless her soul, appeared to have higher tolerance to this attitude of his though most of her focus was on Irisviel herself, still rather weakened after the pact has been assumed at the church. The woman who previously tailed them – named Maiya, Garl recalled – assisted in that as well. Though her expression was as disspassionate as her superior's, the body language gave away that she cared, at the very least.

This man, one Emiya Kiritsugu, seemed to not even flinch in spite of his wife's state. Nevertheless, if Irisviel believed in that man, Astraea was willing to follow her as her Master. If Astraea was willing to believe Irisviel, then he, Garl Vinland, would follow his maiden in return.

He believed that the fight will come to them as they were the ones who acquired services of Caster and her wraith, thus it would be logical to assume that they would want them eliminated. Two Masters that strictly co-operated – even if he was the one without a Servant – were a grave threat to get rid of as fast as possible. The castle, for all intents and purposes, was rigged with all sorts of traps. Mundane, of course; out of Magi that mattered in this war, only three could handle them and only one was likely clever or humble enough to take notice of them.

And indeed, the fight would come to them.

* * *

Her poor showing last night, Ciaran hoped, could be forgotten tonight.

Together with her Master and Gough they've set out for Castle Einzbern. Gough's Master remained hidden within the confines of his mansion, planning and plotting. There was some merit to his reasoning, but she wished he was there with them, just in case.

Of course, at the end of the day this was no epic tale, but something more akin to wetworks Lord's Blades engaged in. Even if she was summoned as a hero and participated in wars against Dragons, she was still no Hawkeye Gough, Dragonslayer Ornstein or Artorias the Abysswalker.

She was not jealous apart from small lapses of inadequacy; a title of Lord's Blade, _the_ Lord's Blade was a great honor in its own right, but it was still a mere title rather than a grand name one has made for themselves. The bards did not sing songs about assassins, after all.

"Whatever troubles thou?" Gough's booming voice, now soft to not give them away, sounded out next to her, snapping her out of the brief period of reluctance.

"Hm? Ah, it's just my mind playing tricks on me. Pay it no mind, old friend." She replied with a shake of her head. The forest that led to the castle was strangely unprotected by any kind of barrier or a trap, apart from a mild shield to hide it away from eyes of those who should not see it.

"Whatever thou say, little hornet." She had half a mind to swat lightly at his giant arm as a response. Yes, at least they were going to the fight with good spirits. That was always important. "That Master of yours... a troubled fellow, isn't he?"

"What do you mean?" Kirei was a little behind them, at his own request. He took the news of going to this part of Fuyuki unusually, Ciaran thought. There was something of an introspection hidden behind his usual calm and focused self this time.

"Something nags at him all the time and it only nags twofold the closer we step to the castle."

"Do you think he has personal business with the Einzbern?"

"Nay. I would rather assume it is the real Master of Saber that yours wishes to see." That made sense. She recalled a couple of their conversations from earlier, the way he spoke the Magus Killer's name. It seemed he related to him on some level, but what did it mean, exactly?

Emiya Kiritsugu, whose Servant had been killed so early... or had she?

"Someone is ahead." Gough spoke, the mighty bow in his hand. Yes, Ciaran could feel two... three, four presences not too far away from here. Only a single Servant, but the second strongest one felt almost like a real deal.

The mission statement was as such: she and Archer would intercept enemy's Servants while Kirei took care of Masters and whoever else was there to protect them.

* * *

It was still a little bizarre, this situation.

In a giant camper van that two inept Magi managed to camouflage together – with Kariya mostly acting as a support energy supply – the atmosphere was perhaps not jolly... but it felt nice, in its own way.

From what Kariya could gather, Waver Velvet, the Master of Rider, was almost as bad at Magecraft than he was. Well, that was probably a little harsh to say, considering at least Waver understood the theory of magic and, despite his own self-loathing, was competent in other things as well. It was him who was being a liability that just so happened to have a competent Servant of his own.

Speaking of which, both Rider and Berserker seemed to have a silent understanding of their own. Funny how just a day earlier they were about to fight to the death in the dead of the night before the plan was devised. Kariya couldn't say he wasn't grateful. He needed all the help he could get to beat Tokiomi and save Sakura from a grim, twisted fate.

He hasn't explained his reasons for joining the War and Waver was kind enough not to pester him about. Kariya, in turn, did not ask for his. From what he could gather however, it was easy to deduce that his temporary ally was way over his head and only lived still because apparently the bigwigs in this race chose to focus on themselves.

It was one notion of Tokiomi Kariya could appreciate. For now they've stopped at the outskirts of the town to grab some grub – well, Waver did that – while he just sat there and thought. The calmness of the situation was good for him; the worms did not stir as much as they normally did. It almost felt like he was just down with a cold rather than being devoured from the inside by a bunch of parasitic prana constructs.

"How are you feeling?" Berserker spoke, sitting opposite of him. He hasn't taken his eyes – so to say – off Kariya for a while, careful to monitor him. Rider himself sat at the wheel, tapping it slowly and without much rhythm as he looked over at the shop Waver was in.

"Better. Better than I was." The white-haired man replied, even managing a brief smile. Gascoigne nodded in return, clearly pleased with the answer.

"The war ahead is a tough conflict to brave." He murmured, reclining against the wall of the camper. The small portable couch didn't seem like it could contain the whole of him. "But... for the first time since it has started, I have faith."

"Reassuring to hear that from your own Servant." Kariya's expression turned briefly sour as the blindfolded Berserker chuckled softly.

"Don't get me wrong, Master. I and Rider shall see you two to the victory, but you must yourself admit that it would be that much more difficult without help." Sad as it was to say, he had to agree. Gascoigne might have been a formidable man – he did win with Saber, after all, which was supposed to be the strongest of classes – but nobody could tell if they would be so lucky next time or if the opposing Master wouldn't just be rid of him instead.

The same applied to Waver. It was like Rider said; if they wanted to win they had to think, think outside the box. Not too hard for a barely-a-Magus to think outside The Magus Box, at least. Now, putting the plans into fruition was a whole another horse entirely.

Waver returned with a bunch of instant noodles and other assorted snacks. Even got Kariya's favorites, too. "You said you liked the wasabi ones, right?" He inquired sheepishly, gesturing to a few of the cups he carried.

"Yeah. Thanks." Before this whole ordeal started, Kariya liked to joke that such generous helpings of wasabi were sharpening his wit. That carefree attitude had died the moment the creatures were implanted in him, but there was a silver lining to the situation: they really, really disliked the wasabi.

* * *

Leaving the confines of his fortress for reason any other than do battle was a strange thought.

Well, not quite leaving it; they were still at the hotel, just outside of the garrison Kayneth had made upon arrival. As it turned out, the place had a shooting range for those willing to waste their time on shooting to targets. He and Sola were now becoming a part of that populace, much to his chagrin.

It was Lancer's idea, of course. After Kayneth's revolver had been found his fiancee was pestering him about it for quite a while... no doubt thanks to that accursed Servant's influence. Still, there was likely no reason to set out just yet; as he pointed out it was likely that Tohsaka faction was just about finished getting ready for conflict with Einzberns. It didn't quite feel right, just sitting about and doing nothing, so something to kill time with – that, as Lancer explained, could very well come in handy – would not be unwelcome, as much as it was dull and barbaric.

Truth be told, Kayneth was not a good shot, not at all. It was more of a last gambit, one last ace up his sleeve. Of course, if a Servant was to catch him in close quarters, he could as well just throw stones at them instead. It was more of a tool to scare away any hapless bandits and, in an unforseen situation, act like something to use on an opposing Master.

Naturally, just thinking of this was making Kayneth's pride coil around and squirm. No, he was not here to just win under any means necessary, but to show thoroughly why was he the one worthy of winning. Lancer seemed to imply that he would have to discard his pride sooner or later, but El-Melloi was of hope that this won't be the case.

And, really, if that pleased Sola-Ui, he could very well let them have their way for a bit.

She fumbled with her pistol by the range, Lancer carefully explaining how to handle the weapon piece by piece. Kayneth at the very least had this step ticked off. Well, no matter. Some mindless entertainment was good to have every once in a while, even for someone like him.

He took aim and fired once, the bullet impacting upon the left arm of the silhouette at the other end of the room. Not bad. He expected to miss (not that he would admit such a thing aloud). Another shot was even in about the same place as the first one. He missed the third one.

"Not half-bad, Master." Lancer complimented him from over Sola's stand. She was getting gradually better, able to fire a gun in a proper direction. Somehow, his praise irritated Kayneth. It didn't feel too dismissive even, it just... felt wrong.

Unfocused, he missed the fourth shot, and the fifth one. He put the pistol down for a moment, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Well, he couldn't get so easily distracted; there would be greater challenges to brave than a half-honest praise.

The sixth one, after a deep breath, hit right in the middle of the target. Quite good. Sola was managing to hit the target, too, and seemed quite excited with each good hit. Lancer was making sure that she manages.

...frankly... it was a little relaxing, if nothing else. He couldn't say his mind was put at ease, but he definitely felt less ridden with burden or responsibility. Even if someone wished to impose on them, he had no doubts that Lancer would see to that. Yes. This was good.

* * *

Here they were.

Astraea was watching Assassin emerge from the other side of the forest, her stride confident. No doubt she was not on her own; she could feel the other Servant signature further away. Garl was down there for now acting as a bait. Of course, this was not fooling anyone; the woman with two blades had likely watched the church before. Still, a chance for a sneak attack could not be passed up.

If Astraea could help it, she would rather wait until everybody in their group recuperated. Irisviel – here with her – seemed to be getting slightly better, but Caster still worried for her Master. Who was to say her condition wouldn't worsen again?

Maiya was in the trees opposite of them, slightly to the left. She was to act as a distraction in case the enemy planned to target Irisviel. A sacrifice that could buy them a few seconds at most; with no disrespect to her skill, she was still a mere human.

"Halt. Who goes there?" Her beloved called out to Assassin, shield in one hand and the mighty hammer Bramd resting on the ground as he held it, staring down the arrival. It might have been pure iron, but he could wield it as if it was a slender sword.

Assassin didn't see fit to reply, merely stopping her stride and tilting her head slightly, just enough for a giant arrow – no, more like a javelin – to fly right past it towards Garl. He didn't flinch, his shield blocking the impact though it did push him back a step.

"Not the one to talk much, I see." Garl grunted, preparing himself for the offensive. Archer was out there with his giant arrows; he sure didn't want to be nailed by one especially why trying to fend off Assassin's attacks. A distance away, Astraea and Irisviel began slowly shuffling through the greenery to walk around Assassin and reach Archer's position to deprive her of his fire support.

The first grand battle of Fuyuki War was about to begin.

* * *

 **I swear this fic isn't dead yet. It's still been a while and I frankly cannot tell how long would the periods of silence be. Still, hope you guys can put up with my infrequent schedule and enjoy the read. :)**


	8. The Grand Ending

In this castle there were answers that Kotomine Kirei desired.

Emiya Kiritsugu, the man who could possibly be quite like him. Someone that he could relate to. Someone that could explain to him what motivates him so; so he himself could find some meaning.

Ever since he was born, Kirei felt an inclination towards evil, yet he knew that it was a bad choice. Raised by his father, also a priest, he came to understand the notions of morality, the binary concept that separated deeds in two categories. And yet, despite Risei's efforts and Kirei's own desire to be good, he always felt that evil is what he should look for instead. It was strange, it was unsettling and it disturbed him ever since.

He tried his hand in many a subject, and mastered them with little trouble... only to discard them when he had reached a point of proficiency. One after another, he was found with more nagging to stray towards maliciousness. Nothing but suffering of others brought joy to his heart and it was a thought that horrified him ever since.

It seemed nothing could smash that wall apart. Not even love and siring a child could do that. His wife died for him explicitly so his heart could stir and find its good side... but it didn't happen. All he felt was regret; regret that he didn't get to kill his wife before she died of illness. A thought that replused him ever since.

He's found himself a protege of Tohsaka Tokiomi, a friend of his father that he has found to be a boring, uninspiring man. Nevertheless, he served faithfully until the Grail had chosen him for the next War. Now that was a thought out of order. What would this wish-making device want from a man who had no wish of his own? He continued to serve under Tohsaka and that link only became stronger now, seeing as their Servants were friends back in their day, in their land.

Well, it didn't matter. He was here to intercept Emiya Kiritsugu and, if he could afford it, ask him this important question. Ask like one empty man would ask another; what made you full? While Assassin and Caster dealt with Caster and her minion, he had more than enough time to find and incapacitate his target.

The excitement dwelling in his chest was an unfamiliar notion, but he welcomed it all the same.

* * *

The wraith was making for a bothersome enemy, Ciaran thought.

He was too slow to actually hit her, but his defenses were like iron. Even with her attacks and Gough's arrows being synchronized together to capitalize on each other, it seemed the knight with the hammer would not budge so easily. In a sense, it made for a pleasant notion; Assassins were supposedly subpar at actually fighting other Servants, as her Master explained at some point, so she wasn't in any real danger, so long as she kept her focus and her wits about her.

Of course, this man was no Servant. Not quite. His mistress – and her Master – was hiding somewhere in the forest, plotting a retaliation of their own. She was the real threat.

"Fierce like a wasp." The wraith spoke after her Tracers and his shield parted ways again, this time making a step sideways to narrowly avoid the fired arrow. "But it doesn't look like your stings carry any real bite."

"Save your drivel for afterlife." She replied shortly. The wraith snorted indignantly as he rested the hammer on his shoulder.

"Fierce indeed. What drives you, Assassin? Your class isn't the type to fight open battles like this."

"I'm no mere Assassin." She wasn't wrong, Garl had to admit. Even without her Archer friend constantly firing those javelins from afar, her pace was fluid and deadly, befitting a fighter who had seen many a duel. Only by his own dedication to the issue and his trusty shield could he hope to survive for Astraea and Irisviel to stall Archer so he could proceed. Assassin could not know that, but he had some tricks up his sleeve himself.

Maiya was still hidden in the shrubbery nearby, ready to distract the masked warrior if need be. A reckless, almost senseless sacrifice it would make if Assassin set her designs on her, but it was a couple of seconds he might have needed. "So I can see." For now he just needed to talk to her. It was a distraction as good as he himself could afford. "The point still stands. Exceptional or not, you're no Saber to combat me like this."

"It's more than enough for the likes of you." There was no arrogance in that statement nor was it the absolute certainty; Garl imagined it more as Assassin trying to shut him up. Her next attacks came swiftly and not soon after another javelin-sized arrow came flying right at him. The masked woman followed soon after to keep the hammer knight in place, but this time the second arrow did not come. Assassin refused to break her stride however, following up with more flurries and slashes. This time, Garl took point and made a step forward, bashing with his shield. The retaliation hit nothing but empty air; his opponent made a swift sidestep, the golden blade swinging forward to end the fight on the spot.

Of course, that's not what happened. With Wrath of Gods, he managed to push Assassin back. The spell took her by surprise though she didn't quite bowl over: rather, she had managed to tuck herself in into a backwards roll and be on her feet a moment ago, the damage inflicted minimal beyond an irritated grunt and a crack in her mask. Still, every second counted for Garl to gain some sort of advantage. He pushed forward again with a horizontal swing, one easily ducked under as Assassin lunged to meet him, sneaking a stab with her blade past his shield. It slid off his armor, but he couldn't count on that saving him next time. At least he could now close the space between the blade and her arm, forcing her to drop it if she didn't want to be squished into paste. That was one Tracer less on her part, at least.

Ciaran threw the other, silver blade right at him, it spinning through the air. It bounced off the wraith's shield harmlessly. "I guess that's that." He spoke, preparing himself to go for the kill. Sadly for him, this was not yet that. Gough must have been compromised by Caster and her Master while she was wasting time with the wraith here. Well, no matter. She had no doubt that he can handle himself.

"Not quite." She drew the second pair of her Tracers, taking a moment to appreciate the way knight's shoulders slumped in dejection upon seeing them. The fight was nowhere near over yet.

* * *

"Thou must be Caster and her mistress."

This was the first time Irisviel had seen someone so gigantic. Berserker was a sizeable man on his own, but this Archer was a class in himself. She entertained a brief notion that even if she and Caster tried to stand on one another, he would still dwarf them both. Clearly that was no ordinary hero.

Rather interestingly, Archer didn't see fit to engage them in combat yet. He had an arrow nocked, but their appearance made him lower the enormous bow of his. It seemed he was not planning to fight them. Nevertheles, it would do well not to anger the giant if they could help it.

"In the flesh, Sir knight." Astraea replied, taking note that he did not seem to look at them or anywhere in particular. A blind Archer... now that was a story to listen to.

"Coming this close to an enemy Servant, even if he might be an Archer, and with your Master in tow, Caster? That is a bold thing to do."

"Seeing as your friend over there battles with my beloved Garl, it is only fair that I engage you in return." Astraea replied. "It is only fair." The giant Archer guffawed as he turned his head closer to their position, but still not quite to look at them.

"Is that so?" About where his eyes should be a faint blue shimmer appeared as he now lowered his head down to look at the two women. "A cleric, I see, and one of great form." Astraea flinched a little which did not escape neither Gough nor Irisviel. Why would one flinch upon the compliment like this? "Well, I'm not the kind to fight up close if not without a good reason, but if you insist..."

"Just talking is good enough, too." Caster allowed herself a small smile. "I do wish we would rather resolve this conflict in peace."

"That would certainly be easier." Archer nodded, then – much to Irisviel's surprise – sat down. Just like she suspected, he was still at least twice as tall as either of them. "Not that some of these local fellows believe in that."

"W-well, it would be the better option." The white-haired Master interjected sheepishly. "But how would we decide who deserves the Grail then?"

"We could have it be a matter of discussion." The giant hummed softly. "Quite a few troubles could be solved if we dared to talk before acting."

"I wouldn't mind if we could avoid the war." Astraea spoke, nodding in agreement. "But would we agree on the worthiness of the chosen wish to fulfill?"

"So it still would be a battle, but one of rhetorics." Another hum. "And morals, most likely. I do have to agree that conflict makes the competition easier." Oh, it would be utopian to get everybody to talk things out peacefully.

* * *

The overabundance of traps would likely force any other Magus to either withdraw, die or employ their own carefully woven defenses to countermeasure them.

Kirei was lucky to not qualify in neither of these three categories. His step was quiet and measured as he took notice of the trip-wires, suspicious pieces of decoration and anything that might have looked out of place. Yes, any other Magus would consider Emiya Kiritsugu an offense to Magecraft and an opponent that compensated for his subpar knowledge and power with dirty, vulgar tricks, but Kirei knew better than this.

If anything, those were signs of someone smart enough to not unleash all his power upon the enemy if he didn't have to. Seeing as it was him assaulting Kiritsugu's fortress and not the other way around, that alone put Kirei at a disadvantage.

Luckily, it seemed his target – and an object of fixation – did not seem to bother with ambushing him. Yet. Kirei wouldn't dare and think that Kiritsugu is underestimating him. A man so similar to him would be able to recognize him as a formidable opponent; a mutual feeling. It was almost regrettable, having to kill him. He had to talk to him first. See if he really was the fellow empty man, the kindred spirit that clings to whatever hope of accomplishment he may have.

Another trip-wire. This one he stepped over, avoiding the loose part of floor that no doubt was some sort of pressure plate. The sheer amount of careful maneuvers he had to undertake was more akin to doing a complicated ballet choreography with Death itself for the audience. If the audience likes it, he would be set free. If not, well... hopefully he would survive a misstep or two.

* * *

The fight has reached an impasse.

Ciaran had managed to inflict a couple of hits upon her enemy, but it didn't seem like the wraith felt them too much. Even if he did, the healing magic – not unlike clerical miracles – did away with most of those.

At the same time, the masked woman was just too fast for Garl to hit. He hadn't hit her even once, not even with a glancing blow. He had suspicions that a single strike would be all he needed, but it was of course easier said than done. "We can fight like this all night." He huffed after Assassin's blade impacted against his shield for the who knew which time. As expected, the masked woman didn't reply right away, more busy glaring at him and having another go. Futile.

At least it seemed like she understood the notion after this attempt, finally. With a discontent sigh, Assassin sheathed her blades. "Fair enough. An impasse most bothersome." She muttered as she watched the wraith sheathe his shield and hammer in return. "For a mere wraith, you're quite the adversary."

"And for a mere Assassin, you fight not unlike a Saber." With insults veiled as compliments out of the way the brief tension returned as the two started each other down. "So why do you fight, Assassin? What wish of the Grail makes you move your blades?"

"You assume I need a wishmaking cup to move them." The masked woman shook her head dismissively. "It is my duty as an Assassin and as a Servant. There is naught but this to it."

"Yet you're focused quite fiercely on this mere wraith."

"You are an enemy to dispatch. Sooner or later, at the very least." Assassin's stance relaxed a little bit.

"What about your Archer friend?" It was a good question, though the context was wrong; what was with Gough? There were no sounds of fighting over there, so either they have eliminated him instantly or somehow distracted him. Talking him down? He was always the type to ponder and wonder.

"He has little aspirations of his own." She replied truthfully. The man with so little pride in his skills to compare himself to a dog hunting for hares didn't aspire for much else but truthful service. His Master seemed to appreciate that, too, so they were well synchronized.

...here was hoping that her Master succeeds in his task if she couldn't. "And what about you, wraith?"

"I am hardly a contestant, Assassin." The knight chuckled softly, arms folded on his chest. "But if you wish to know, it is what dearest As..." Caught himself on that one. "Caster desires."

"And what does she desire?"

"Isn't that the question you should ask her instead?" Another chuckle, much to Ciaran's annoyance. It seemed that the wraith liked this brief feeling of superiority. It was almost as bad as Lancer's casual arrogance. "All she wishes for is to bring salvation to her flock."

"A selfless wish? That is bound to fail. All tales of selflessness end in tragedy." The notion of Assassin did seem to point into the direction of a wish that would directly benefit her. A return of the loved one, perhaps? Going back in time to fix her mistakes?

"Is it selfless if it is just her flock?" For all it mattered to Garl, they had those in the Valley of Defilement and never ventured anywhere else; they would be hunted down by zealots if they tried. Try as they might have, it would simply not happen. Assassin did not respond to this, merely shaking her head slowly.

"All too often the downtrodden bite the hand that feeds them." She finally said. Garl had no real response to that either, after all he was a mere wraith here.

* * *

He found Emiya Kiritsugu in the castle chapel. How oddly appropriate.

After avoiding the gauntlet of deadly traps and not encountering any other resistance, Kirei was left a little worried. From what he has heard and read on the Magus Killer, it would not be above him to collapse the whole castle over his head. That, that would be difficult to survive through. Perhaps Kiritsugu wasn't even there, just goading him to explore the whole fortress fruitlessly while he remotely set up explosives?

But no, it was the man himself in the flesh, sitting on the steps before the altar. Even from here he could see the dead, lifeless eyes of Emiya Kiritsugu that regarded him in turn with distressing nonchalance. This had to be it. This man was certain to be like him, an empty vessel.

"Kotomine Kirei." He greeted him as he looked up, a cigarette in his mouth, just about burning out.

"Emiya Kiritsugu." Kirei greeted him in return. The hellos were stiff and of official sound and yet something didn't seem right. Something about The Magus Killer was a little too casual. "I was hoping to meet you."

"Funny. The sentiment is reciprocated." Somehow deep in Kirei's mind there was a notion of excitement. So there was something. "The most dangerous of Magi going for me in the flesh so early on?"

"I have my personal reasons for doing so."

"So I see." A moment of silence. True, at the end of the day they were enemies, but he was here to ask a pressing question. Of course, now that he was here, he just wasn't sure how to put the question together. It was an equivalent of a shy schoolgirl trying to ask her crush to go out with her. The comparison was ridiculous and if Kirei was the man to feel flustered, he would probably feel flustered, just standing there awkwardly.

It didn't help that for all it mattered, Kiritsugu was being surprisingly gracious to not start shooting him on the spot. Frankly, he would feel more comfortable if that was the case.

Well, he might as well capitalize on this. "Emiya Kiritsugu, there is something I wish to ask you."

"Go on."

"I-" And then his voice got caught in his throat as a sharp pain hit him straight on the chest. It didn't seem like Kiritsugu moved, shot him, did anything. A Black Key appeared in his hand, but it flickered and dissipated fruitlessly after his hand went limp.

It was hard to ignore a blade sticking out of his chest. In hindsight, he should have expected a trap and there were countless ones out there that he successfully avoided and braved.

"You were saying something." Kiritsugu's casually indifferent voice now had a new tinge to it, or at least that's what Kirei thought, the tinge of sarcasm and mockery. The priest opened his mouth to speak, but the blade only went up a little higher, arresting any attempt at speech as the metallic taste of blood filled it and made him choke. He wished to raise the hand armed with his Command Seals, but it was to no avail. Strength was leaving him. "Well?"

"Y-you..." Another choke. He has been played for a fool and now he was paying the price with his life... but perhaps this was a good thing, after all. He, a wretched being, suffering ignominious death from the one person he decided he would let his guard down to reach out for him? The world would be better off without him. Denied a chance to do evil and relish in it... it was a salvation from the troubles that bothered him for so long.

In a sense, Emiya Kiritsugu ended up his salvation.

"Kill him." The blade went up further and further, seamlessly reaching all the way to the top of Kirei's head and freeing itself from him. For a moment nothing happened – other than the priest managing a genuinely sad, broken smile – before his upper body went apart with a disgusting squelch, like a horrid human flower and collapsed on the floor, the contents spilling out lazily. Without further ado, Lucatiel of Mirrah wiped the blade clean on the deceased priest's robes without a word.

Kiritsugu Emiya stood up and crushed what was left of his cigarette in his hand. The war was now halfway won.

* * *

 **Well, how about it? Already is the Fake Priest out of the game. I was pondering whether to leave him around or not, but I figured I might as well give this a shot. Of course, this means Ciaran is bound to disappear... or is she? You'll see yet. :)**

 **I'm also not all that happy with how Astraea & Iri vs. Gough turned out. Not sure if this really is in-character for him in particular. I suppose he knew that the fight is bound to end in a stalemate. **


	9. Leisurely Activity, Part 1

The morning came quietly to Irisviel, almost disturbingly so. Considering what happened through the night – death of Assassin's Master, the man her Kiritsugu seemed to find the most dangerous of opponents in this War and Assasin's subsequent, curse-filled departure as she vanished into thin air amongst powerless rage – it was a strange thought. Even stranger was that Archer didn't see fit to take steps against this other than issuing a stiff compliment and retreat into the night, back to his Master.

The traps that were previously laid all over Castle Einzbern remained untouched and so Maiya had spent a while disarming them bit by bit, much to Astraea's insistence that her Master should rest post-haste. A Master. That was still quite a funny notion to Iri, all things considered.

She did get to rest. Kiritsugu contacted them in saying that he had additional business to attend and that he will be missing until morning. Not the first time he ventured out like this, and yet the white-haired woman couldn't help but feel more anxious than before. Something seemed amiss. It wasn't that she doubted Kiritsugu's ability – he was, after all, more than anyone destined to acquire the Grail – but to have a man he himself considered the most dangerous of his enemies dispatched so quickly and without much thought... something definitely was amiss.

And then she got to know what.

"Irisviel? Wake up." A familiar voice rang out among the pleasant sleep, trying to pull her back into reality. Just who was it? She has definitely heard the voice before... earlier. Was it a dream?

No, someone has just nudged her. "Irisviel... it's eleven o'clock." She cracked an eye open, catching the faint sight of blond hair and two different eyes; one deep blue and the other whited out, surrounded by green... what a familiar sight.

"Whuh?" She made a non-commital sound, then another when the mysterious figure touched the tip of her nose. Though a stranger, there was a feeling of familiarity to that person... wait.

Wait.

"Irisviel." Lucatiel was about to nudge her for the third time before her Master's wife's eyes shot wide open in shock. The unmistakable notion that signalized the beginning of the scream was swiftly arrested with a firm, but gentle hand upon her mouth. Kiritsugu did warn her something to that effect might happen. No small wonder, for all Iri knew she was dead. "Hush. It's me." She spoke softly, trying out a smile. She was no type to smile, but reassurance was probably what the white-haired woman needed at the moment.

"Mmf!" Her surprised cry was muffled on Saber's hand as she just rested there, her eyes clearly deceiving her. Was this a trick Assassin devised to pay back for her Master's death yesterday?

"Irisviel, please. It's me." Lucatiel shook her head. "I... can explain." It wasn't going to be easy; she was hoping that this War can be fought with no knowledge of her affliction, but as Berserker made sure of, this was no longer the case.

And then a giant knight with a hammer smashed into the room. "Who dares?!" He roared like an enraged bear, sight fixed upon the blond warrior in the leather garb currently looking like she was being busy assassinating his beloved's Master. "You have some gall, wench, to strike in the broad daylight and upon a sleeping maiden, nonetheless. Step back at once."

Well, this simple reconciliation got that much more complicated. Lucatiel twirled back to face the unknown knight, sword and shield materializing in her grasp. "I am no assassin, Sir Knight. This woman is dear to me and I wished to see her after we've become separated." She replied cautiously, glancing briefly back to Iri and then focusing on her opponent.

"Yet you reek of a fellow Servant and come in your Servant cloth." For the record, out of their four only Maiya got to know of Saber's sudden revival, yet she has been ordered to stay silent on the matter. Perhaps it wasn't that good of an idea or perhaps there was deeper meaning to it.

"Does not make my statement any less true."

"Drivel. If there's any honor in you, ruffian, you will come out and face me properly." It seemed the fight was inevitable after all. Who was this man? A Servant, yes, but what kind of Servant? That hammer likely did not belong to a Lancer, nor did it to a Caster.

"Garl, stand down." Irisviel called from her place on the bed, sitting up. "It's... I... I just need a moment to... gather my bearings."

"...is this woman speaking the truth, Lady Irisviel?" He sounded cautious. No small wonder.

"Yes, I just... I did not expect to see her again." Again, no small wonder. Lucatiel was the first to lower her arms, hoping this token of goodwill was a good way of explaining the situation. The knight called Garl followed suit hesitantly, the giant hammer dissipating into mist. "Please give me a moment. I... I should probably change into something more presentable."

"As you say." Both Servants – well, a Servant and a Servant-esque wraith – bowed down and stepped out of the room. The door was wide enough for both, but Irisviel couldn't help but notice how they pushed each other shoulder-to-shoulder as they left.

* * *

...what a way to start a day.

Tohsaka Tokiomi's day started poorly.

He got to know of Kirei's death as soon as Archer arrived with those grim news. Of course, there was no official account of his pupil dying, but the way he described Assassin's spontaneous dissappearance did sound like the link between Kirei and her has been severed was telling in its own way. A Master could survive without a Servant – for a given time, at least – but a Servant with no connection would simply vanish into the air, unable to sustain themselves for longer than a couple of moments. Some managed to handle this better – he briefly thought of Caster and her minion – but it seemed Assasin was not one of them.

At best, Kirei was still alive, but in captivity and armless, but Tokiomi couldn't be optimistic. Any other opponent, perhaps he could doubt whether it is truly over, but against Einzberns and their Magus Killer... only one side could walk from that fight alive. The news hit him stronger than he thought he would. It was to be expected that one of them – or both of them – could perish in this fight, but to see his friend's son and his pupil just disappear without a trace felt distressingly depressing. Relaying the news to Risei would only be harder.

Tokiomi didn't consider himself much of a drinker. He had a wine cellar and an acquired taste, but to say he indulged in it would be calling it a long stretch. And yet, as last night he drank slightly more than usually, it didn't really feel all too well. The taste was gone, or it was at least dulled to a point he could as well drink water.

The notion of mortality – his, Kirei's, other Magi's – left him more shaken than he would like to admit. Gone was his usual unflappable attitude. He caught himself shaking at some point. That people die was something entirely natural, but to have one's life severed in an instant, at such a young age and leaving one's friends and family behind, it was truly a tragedy. The notion that it could happen to him – now that he has learned that someone he valued so much died beforehand – was soulcrushingly difficult to get over.

Tohsaka mansion felt oddly hollow today. Save for him and Archer, there was no one here. Normally, there would also be his beloved wife and his dear daughter, maybe a guest or two, but otherwise...

"Thou hasn't shaven." Archer's deep booming voice broke him out of his grim, convoluted thoughts. Tokiomi stared at his Servant blankly for a moment before mechanically feeling his own face. True. He would usually shave first thing in the morning, careful to keep his goatee prim and proper. Now there was the faint stubble gathering about.

"I... suppose I haven't." He admitted, nodding slightly. What a strange Servant, paying attention to such details. Granted, he could expect nothing ordinary the moment Hawkeye Gough appeared in his summoning circle.

"Your protege's death still weighs on you, I take?" Despite the bass of Archer's voice, he did manage to make it sound soft, almost quiet. Tokiomi nodded without a word. He felt strangely vulnerable, just staring through the window and talking about such private matters with a hero of yore, no matter what yore this could be. The morning was rainy and gray.

"'tis only natural." Gough grunted. "Me and Ciaran have lost many a companion back in a day, whether it was against dragons, demons or what have you. Each death felt as crushing as the next one, but... at the end of the day, we all knew that some of us won't get to see home again."

"I suppose I... haven't expected that he would be the first to go. That he would go, period." Kirei might have been a subpar Magus, but he was still a resourceful man and an ex-Executor of the Church. One did not become an Executor without peerless skill and an ability to handle themselves. No doubt if anything, Kirei fell to trickery and deceit. That he couldn't summon Assassin via a Command Seal to protect himself seemed to reinforce that notion; he was likely dead before he became aware of the danger. "He was a friend and my pupil, after all."

"It is all the more distressing if you related to the dead personally. Seeing Ciaran go, dead she might not be... 'twas a strange, disturbing sight." He seemed to be optimistic despite the circumstances, that Assassin might be still around at least.

"A small mercy. A Masterless Servant cannot uphold their body for long before vanishing." Tokiomi shook his head dismissively. "If she is still around, it is not for long, Archer."

"I can only hope." Even if she was around, this did little to help in anything. At the end of the day, she was loyal to Kirei as her Master. Without him, she would have to find a new one post-haste, and the pool of possible candidates has drained the moment Einzberns snatched Caster away.

A brief silence. "Why dost thou want the Grail, Master?" Gough asked. Another personal question, perhaps one that dug deeper than the last one. Why did he want the Grail? It was the Root of all knowledge, the magical Akasha where all answers to universe's problems could be found. The classical desire of Magi, to find this miraculous Root, and Tohsakas were no different for so long, ever since the first Fuyuki War started. To have a wishmaking device that can give you all you desire... the notion could make a man's head spin.

"It's the way to the Root." He replied simply. "The source of knowledge of the universe."

"Can anyone short of a god take that much knowledge?" Tokiomi looked over at Archer with a slightly raised eyebrow. Could he? Prior to the War, he would likely express cautious optimism, but now... now he couldn't be so sure. "And even if thou could, what would happen then?"

"What do you mean?"

"By achieving this wish, thou would ascend to godhood, or at least close to that. It is likely you would have to be there on your own, for all eternity."

"I don't think all answers of the universe come together with immortality."

"Amongst them, one would be an answer to the very life." Archer stopped his carving for a moment, looking up at the ceiling. Of course, he couldn't see anything, but the notion was clear enough; he was thoughtful. In his hands was a figurine that, crudely, resembled the upper half of Kirei. Simple and a little strange, it nonetheless was almost disturbingly detailed, right down to his vestments' creases and wrinkles. "And thou we might strive to find answers to what bothers us, soon another one rears out. To have all answers in your hand, it would make your existence pointless."

Was there truth to Archer's words? It was hard to say. Early on, the notion that he will ponder about getting the Grail was ridiculous. He then thought that he can think of the wish as he acquires it. At the end of the day, before this it was a competition. One that he hoped could be solved gentlemanly, via Servant bouts, but that could not happen. Masters were bound to die, at least some of them. At worst, there might have been collateral damage amongst the civilians as well.

Gough's roaring laugh brought him back to attention, startled. "Ah, forgive me, Master. The last thing thou needst is to have your principles undermined." Tokiomi could at least appreciate the notion that his Servant wasn't, at the end of the day, doing this on purpose. "I think thou need a moment of respite."

"Respite?"

"A walk through the city might yet lift your spirits." A walk. How simple. How... unusual. At the end of the day, he did spend quite some time within this mansion while his Servant and Kirei with his were out there doing field work. "I shall remain about if anyone feels audacious to attack thou in broad daylight. You, Master, can take some time to think. I think it's needed." Strange as this was, he found himself in agreement in Archer.

"That being said, a change of garments might be in order. Something less restrictive and less recognizable."

* * *

Strange as this all was, Waver Velvet was... kind of having fun.

Well, this was perhaps a poor way of saying it. There likely wasn't much fun to be had in a conflict between seven Magi and seven superhuman figures capable of moving faster than the eye can see, but... now that there was little conflict to speak of, it felt leisurely.

Kariya, for all of his gruesome appearance, was a stand-up guy. As it came to Waver's attention he could participate in the War because of that awful condition he had. Something about boosting his Magic Circuits in record time. Well, a surgeon could likely open someone up with a scalpel as well as with a bonesaw, though the results would vary wildly.

Nevertheless, it seemed they had a sense of camaraderie etched out, something that Waver appreciated. As awful as it might have sounded, he liked that he wasn't the only inept Magus in this War. At the same time, sometimes Kariya would trail off and look into distance, as if searching for something. His features would sharpen, his brows would furrow, sometimes he would even snarl at no one in particular. As if he needed anything more to become scary. Worse, it seemed like his veins even went as far as to bulge visibly on his face during those brief moments of anger.

Whatever was the procedure Kariya went through, Waver wouldn't wish it upon anyone.

He was getting some groceries from a local store, per the usual custom "Kariya can't get out, Rider can't get out, Berserker could probably get out if they bothered or had money to get him new clothes"; really, at this point it wasn't that much of a bother. He could use it to refine his Japanese, if nothing else. His unexpected ally provided him with a quick crash course on the basics, so at least now he managed not to look like a loon every time he went to grab something to eat.

And then a familiar voice reached him and he froze on the spot. The voice of Sola-Ui. She was there and it seemed that Kayneth's Servant – that old man in the wheelchair – was there with her.

Easy there. Make no sudden movements. He had managed to avoid her once, so he could very well avoid her once more. He was fairly good about avoiding Kayneth's attention - the van with a one-way windshield and sticking to suburbs helped – but there was only so much that he could do without finally getting caught. Plus, though the notion struck him as _mostly_ unlikely, his Servant couldn't conceivably appear in broad daylight unlike Kayneth's.

"What do you mean you don't have any Sprite on hand?" There was a disapproving grunt coming from the redheaded object of Kayneth Archibald's attention. Huh. He wouldn't peg her for a type to enjoy any matter of "plebeian" soda. "Well, 7Up is also good, I suppose. Do you want anything, Gehrman?"

"Ah no, I'm quite good, Miss Sola." That must have been that Servant's real name. Not that it told much to Waver and he had doubts Dragonrider would know himself. Alright, just... move over there with his stuff, pretend you're thinking about what to pick next...

"Oh? And who do we have here?" Shit. Shit shit shit, those were definitely the unmistakable red heels clicking on the floor and coming closer. Waver froze on the spot. "Aren't you that one student whom Kayneth despies so?" Eep. This was it. He had half a mind to not immediately use a Command Seal. Sola wouldn't murder him in broad daylight or have Kayneth's Servant do it... right?

"You could at least look at me." She huffed. Shit! He turned right on his heels in response, standing at attention, completely terrified. Judging by the way the redhaired woman was smirking, he was being quite an amusing sight for her. "You snatched Kayneth's artefact and joined the war all in an attempt to prove a point, no?" She spoke quietly and softly to not attract any unneeded attention, but it felt to Waver like they were in that weird room that carried echo of one's voice to a point it was tenfold louder than it should be.

And then, much to his complete confusion, Sola's smirk warmed up into a more genuine smile. "Aren't you an entertaining young man." She chuckled in a way that didn't seem like she was too upset with the development.

The Servant wheeled over to them, but Waver was still a little too stumped to acknowledge him in any other way beyond a little sputter. "A friend of yours, Miss Sola?"

"On the contrary, he's almost a stranger." She replies with a slight shrug of her shoulders. "An amusing footnote, at best."

"Is that so? Would you concern yourself with someone if he was just that?" Servant's eyes suddenly go down to where Waver's hand was. There was a glimpse of red there, not unlike the one on Kayneth's palm. The student only realized after a moment, then his eyes widened and confusion gave way to fear once more.

"Do not be alarmed. If he knows what's good for him, this adorable little thing will retire without a fight sooner or later." Sola chuckles, taking in Waver's fear like a special kind of treat. "Servant or not, he would fall no doubt. If not to Kayneth, than to one of other Masters." Well... she was not wrong.

Or was she? He was still a Master and he still had his Servant. That, in a sense, made him equal with Kayneth, did it not? ...no, it really didn't. It made as much sense as saying that all dogs were equal, but if he was a beagle, then Kayneth was probably a doberman. In a fight, he would rip him apart and something told him that despite the effort put in swindling his artefact, the strange tidings of this War gave him a stronger Servant as well. This old man looked friendly enough, but something told Waver that if Sola so wished, he would be a smear on the floor before he could blink, Command Seals or not.

At the end of the day, a Servant with a name was likely better than a Servant who was merely a part of a group. "Well, don't let me bother you, adorable little thing. Find yourself a nice, cozy hole to hide in for a bit while Kayneth clears out the rest of the competition and if you then grovel at his feet, he might just spare you." Sola mused, definitely enjoying the way Waver cowered before her.

"Do mock the lad no more, Miss Sola." The Servant interjected with a smile. "He could have just made away with the artefact, yet he chose to participate in the War. Clearly that means he's got some courage to him, at least."

"That, or he's monumentally stupid. Nevertheless, watching Kayneth sputter in outrage was quite entertaining." She nodded in half-agreement. "A shame to see such a cute little thing go so quickly, too." This was the third time she called him this. Was she coming onto him via condescending attitude? Not the strangest thing that has happened to Waver in this war yet. "But do make use of my advice if you don't wish to meet a grim end." With that little goodbye Sola-Ui stepped out of the store with Kayneth's Servant in tow, leaving Waver a mixture of dumbfounded, terrified and embarrassed.

* * *

A few streets away from this strange meeting, Irisviel and her entourage were going shopping.

Garl was sadly excluded from the outing, at least in a sense that he was not materialized unlike Astraea and Lucatiel. Those two – the latter in the suit from their earlier outings, the former put in some of Irisviel's spare clothing – the white-haired Master chose to accompany her, seeing as there was a brief moment of peace to use amongst this War.

For Caster, the notion was an unusual one. She would rather have her Master back at the castle where she could protect her to the best of her and Garl's ability. Of course, there was little risk that they would be attacked in broad daylight, but as long as that risk persisted, one couldn't be too sure... particularily with another Servant on the other side of Irisviel. Though she trusted her Master's judgment in deeming Saber a staunch ally, a small part of her was there, nagging that there's more to the masked knightess than everybody thought. It didn't help that their first impressions from today's morning were... something.

Lucatiel herself cherished a moment of calm. If Irisviel was happy, that made her happy as well. Of course, it did nothing to alleviate her own worry and distrust of Caster. She might have been made Irisviel's Servant – Kiritsugu filled her in on the situation after Kirei has been dealt with – but that did not necessarily mean anything. Plus, even if Astraea with her knight had good intentions after all, they still have weakened that precious white-haired woman. Kiritsugu filled her in on this as well.

...what a cruel fate awaited his wife, and yet there was little response from Emiya Kiritsugu. No... no, there was a response, but it barely shone through the hardened shell her Master covered himself with.

She hadn't told anyone of a patch of moldy green she found on her calf this morning. There... was no need to, she hoped.

* * *

"What happened?" Kariya wasn't a particularily observant person, or at least he didn't think so.

It would be hard to ignore the sheer anxiety of Waver however who was, first, gone for far longer than one should be when buying groceries, two, he was sweating buckets.

"...just... just had a close call, is all." The student stammered out a reply. Rider's attention was on his Master this instant though he didn't leave the steering wheel.

"An enemy Servant?"

"...yes. They didn't attack me though. Uh... just showing off their superiority."

"The redhaired woman and the man in the wheelchair?" Rider poked at the question, causing Waver to nod.

"A man in the wheelchair?" Berserker spoke up, his stare – so to say – finding itself on the student.

"Er, yes. Sola-Ui called him Gehrman." The blindfolded man did something unexpected: he tented his fingers for a bit, then spoke in a voice that could only be described as defeatist.

"Then the War is lost." For a moment there was nothing but stumped silence as Kariya and Waver exchanged glances. Not the first time for Berserker to be so resigned about their chances of winning the Grail, but this was the first when he plainly said it's impossible.

"Do elaborate, Berserker." Rider's voice broke the awkward atmosphere after a moment. "You seem to know the man."

"That I do. As you know, I am a Hunter. Not a particularily good one, but one nonetheless, with my own set of skills. Gehrman... is the First Hunter."

"...First Hunter?" Waver parroted, unable to help a strange feeling of dread creeping up his shoulders.

"Yes. Before Hunters came to be, people fought off the scourge of beasts in their own ways. Sometimes it worked, if you whipped a mob into enough frenzy, sometimes it ended horribly. Gehrman... Gehrman gave this all a sense of organization. He was a brilliant man. He remade ordinary clothing in a way that protected better from claws, fangs and teeth of beasts and thanks to him Trick Weapons have become commonplace."

"Trick Weapons?" The poleaxe appeared in Berserker's hand before he broke it in two, making it a simple axe. Rider nodded in understanding.

"Like so. This is a simple variation, but there are more intricate ones. Gehrman's own Burial Blade is touted as the model Trick Weapon for others to follow to this day."

"And he is a peerless warrior to all that, no doubt." The knight at the wheel sighed. "Well, for all it is worth, I have not heard of him, so he might not be as famous as they make him out to be."

"The worlds do like to mingle together in this war, don't they..." A moment of silence. Kariya wouldn't say, but he could read Waver like a book right now. The way he looked indignant and disappointed, and just a little resigned himself.

"There's more to that." Berserker continued. "Gehrman is... something more than a mere great man. I've met him once, back in a day, but it was not anywhere in Yharnam or within the vicinity of beasts as a fellow Hunter. It was in a tranquil little manor amidst the sea of flowers, with a living doll shaped like a woman by his side."

"Why does this matter, Berserker?" Rider questioned, although his tone suggested caution.

"He was not a man anymore nor was this manor anything raised by human hand."

"Are you kidding me?!" Frankly, Waver was surprised at his sheer indignance and volume of the voice to a point where he jumped in place himself, afraid of his own voice. That quick outburst of anger gave way to fear and despair as his hands squeezed at his temples, his head going down. "...are you freakin' kidding me..." The silence that persisted for a while after spoke more than any word.

"...look, Waver..." Kariya started, pondering what to say next. There was no reason to believe that Berserker was overestimating that Gehrman, but it was always said that you should bet on the underdog. "I... don't think we can afford to back down."

"Well, maybe you can't!" Though he couldn't have known that, Kariya did feel a little painful twinge somewhere deep inside. "The deck is stacked against us so hard it's not even funny! Kayneth's got the strongest Servant! He's got the most knowledge of Magecraft! He... he can't be stopped..." Waver looked down. "Sola-Ui was right... maybe if I grovel at his feet, he'll let me off with a warning or something..."

"I will not allow this." All stares turned to Rider. The tone of knight's voice didn't change, but Kariya could read the difference. It was time for a Servant to scold his Master. "Waver Welvet, you have gone a great distance already. You had the audacity to steal the artefact from under that man's nose and the courage to enter this conflict. You were willing to stand right behind me to support me when we didn't yet know if Berserker and his Master were enemies or allies." Rider left the wheel and shuffled over to Waver, kneeling on one knee. Amusingly for Kariya and Berserker both, he was still so much taller than his Master. "You recognize your weakness, but you are capable of greatness still and thus I will not allow you to grovel under anyone's feet."

"B-but..."

"No buts. You are my liege and my Master. I may be a lowly soldier, but I shall follow you until I perish, and then some." Waver choked a little on his words, watching this mighty figure in red armor bow before him without a second thought. "I will see to it that you humble the man who lords over you and emerge victorious."

"...then we shall join this affair." Berserker nodded after a moment. "No enemy is too impossible to defeat. To have sown seeds of doubt within your very heart, Master of Rider, I wish to apologize."

"What Gascoigne said." Kariya joined in. "I know too much how it feels to be the underdog, but if this means we can bite, gnaw and tear at bigger dogs' ankles until they topple over... well, we might as well try that." The white-haired Master chuckled a little bitterly. "While I still have time to spare, at least."

"What... what do you mean?" Though he had felt relieved and a little stupid at the way he made his outburst sound, Kariya's words made his blood cool down again.

"Well... I'm on borrowed time."

* * *

 **For now there's some thoughts and leisure activities. There is probably going to be one more chapter like that before we get into action. :)**


	10. Leisurely Activity, Part 2

"Would you mind trying this on, Lucy?"

Lucatiel sized up the pastel blue dress Irisviel held in front of her with no small amount of reluctance. It was barely reaching her knees in length and lacked sleeves to go with it; definitely not the type of dress she would wore, if she ever wore dresses outside of that one time when Aslatiel insisted. Her Master's wife adding this little half-affectionate nickname, half-pseudonym only made her feel that much sillier.

Also, much more importantly, wearing it would expose the little patch of moldy green on her calf and she absolutely couldn't have that. Still, it would not be good to arouse suspicion; Caster wasn't stopping giving her suspicious glances now and then anyway. "...do you think it would look good with these hosen?" She gestured to a pair of black leggings. Irisviel made a little squee of a sound.

"Oh, that certainly would look good." She commented. Saber nodded, hoping that the expression of relief washing over her face wasn't too noticeable. Plus, if she had to wear such a short dress, it would be good to cover up her legs anyway. Even with how tight they looked – she preferred ordinary trousers, as did most of Mirrah – it was better than going about with wind licking at your skin. "Please try these on then?" Irisviel grinned alongside her request and Lucatiel couldn't help but smile too. That woman's smile was infectious. Making a little nod she grabbed both articles and made her way to the changing room.

Astraea, in a long flowing dress that Irisviel has prepared for her, watched Saber go, then looked back to her Master. These precious moments of calm did nothing but reinforce her belief that Irisviel von Einzbern really didn't belong in this conflict. She might have reassured her and Saber might have reassured her, but this time, Caster knew better. It was the sentiment Garl shared, not that he would voice it without her doing it first.

Nevertheless, she didn't feel it was right going against her Master's wishes. She was regaining her strength too, and at the end of the day Saber's Master had no interest in killing her, obviously. Thus, Irisviel was safe as long as she and Garl just did their job. If she could also have some fun while at it, it was all the more sweeter. As for herself? Well, she hasn't tried on dresses since she was but a little girl. Ah, distant memories.

Saber emerged from her stall, face scrunched in embarrassment and shame, as if wearing the dress was a punishment. She didn't seem like the type to indulge in such pasttimes, so some part of Caster definitely understood the way the other blonde felt. Even in spite of the leggings shielding her from indecent exposure, she tugged slightly at the bottom of the dress, no doubt wishing it was longer.

"Ah, you look so cute!" Of course, Irisviel was nothing short of amazed, clapping her hands together in excitement. "These really suit you."

"I don't think I agree." Saber replied with a little grunt, her face turning all shades of red. Ah, that poor woman. Caster couldn't help making a little reassuring smile. "I-irisviel, can I change out of these now?"

"Not until I have a good look at you." The white-haired woman thus proceeded to examine Lucatiel from every angle, humming in approval now and then. No doubt the same treatment would befall Astraea.

For now, all she could do is to try and help to the best of her ability.

* * *

Tokiomi has been used to wearing red and mostly red. The color of blood was the color of Tohsaka, their creed, their signature. To go out without it... felt strange.

He decided to heed Gough's advice and dress in something more unassuming than his usual look. The colors were gray and drab, and that alone was already setting him at unease, at least at first. He soon melted into his new clothes, but they couldn't quite bring him comfort on their own. Rather, he would need a moment.

Thus, a walk around Fuyuki. With Archer accompanying him in his spirit form, he just walked, walked through the suburbs and took in the surroundings, the lives of ordinary men who got up, worked, came back to sleep an repeated the process, time and again. Oblivious to the War going around, they were like ants. Useful, but beneath notice.

As such, he walked and walked. There was no need to pace fast; plus he wasn't going anywhere special. Just... taking some fresh air. Some time to think. No one would attack him here; other than a hapless mugger, perhaps. Archer kept silent, though his presence was felt easily.

Tokiomi stopped by the overpass, overlooking the rest of peaceful Fuyuki suburbs. A few streets further he would be on his way into the big city. The weather was proving pleasant, if not necessarily his preffered one; the slight breeze and the sun peeking from behind the clouds.

" _Pleasant, is it not?"_ Gough's voice boomed in his head. _"The feeling of Sun washing over you... it would be most desirable to have it upon meself as well."_ Of course, that was impossible at the moment. Perhaps impossible period.

"I must admit, you're quite right." Tokiomi agreed, mostly out of reflex than anything else. Out there, there still was five Masters and their respective Servants. The Magus Killer. The El-Melloi. One of El-Melloi's students. Two more unknown Masters he had to decipher yet. That went double for the Servants, apart from Einzberns' Saber. That was a non-issue by now.

" _What do you think our next move should be?"_

"Keep tabs on The Magus Killer, if we can." That was the first thing that came to Tokiomi's mind, but truth be told, he still had no plan. While the day could ultimately be spent pleasantly, not having some strategy for the coming conflicts could only end in a tragedy. Then again, the tables have turned and it was no longer him who held all the cards in hand but Einzbern's attack dog. Two Servants, effectively two Masters, a wraith to support one of said Servants... a formidable force held together by an unscrupulous man mocking the very idea of Magecraft. "Perhaps it would be possible to ally with one of the other Magi."

" _Is that wise? What are the odds that they will not try to get an upper hand on you?"_

"Among all things, a Magus is most often a solitary being, but..." Tokiomi tapped his chin in thought. "Sometimes an alliance of convenience is just unavoidable."

" _Whoever would be of interest then, Master?"_

"El-Melloi, most likely. Then again, he is not the type to recognize a relationship of equals, I wager. The more powerful the Magus, the more arrogance they have to deal with. At the same time, it is either him or three unknowns to choose from."

" _Kirei really was irreplacable."_ To that statement, Tohsaka patriarch could only nod in silence. _"When we were storming the castle of Einzbern, I stumbled upon the Master of Caster and Caster herself. From what I could tell... these two would rather stay clear of conflict."_

"Is that so? You would think they'd stand anywhere else but by Magus Killer's side then." The dry comment by Tokiomi did not deter Gough too much. Perhaps, perhaps some sort of talk could be made in the end. If they could avoid the conflict altogether, or perhaps only limit it to Servants... with Ciaran out of the picture, as much as it hurt him to say, these Servant-to-Servant fights would have a semblance of fairness to them as well.

" _I was thinking if we could avoid the war altogether. Sit down, talk this out."_ Tokiomi remained silent. Some Servant he ended up with. Then again, Gough was nothing but helpful and his advice was usually sound, if rather pacifistic. _"Masters need not perish in combat, do they?"_

"Ha. If only half of the contestants agreed with this claim." Frankly, Tokiomi wouldn't mind avoiding fighting. He considered himself a competent Magus and one with perfect control over himself, but one could never be too sure. It could take as little as an ordinary, mundane slip-up to pay with your life; Kirei's sacrifice was definitely reminding him of that little fact.

" _Why not take a gamble and try then?"_ Yes. Why not? He might not have felt confident, but he felt adventurous. The original plan was bound to fail considering he lacked an executor to do action while he plotted in the safety of his fortress, so... a deviation could only help, couldn't it?

"I will see what Risei thinks of this." He hummed idly, watching the cars pass by. "Perhaps a change of tactics could benefit us all..."

* * *

"On a borrowed time." Here Waver was, almost enthusiastic about their ordeal. Rider's reassurance of loyalty, together with Kariya and Berserker's own... he, for a moment, thought that not all is lost.

But now, this bombshell out of nowhere shook him to the core. "What do you-"

"...the worms." Surprisingly, it was Berserker who spoke. His voice dripped with candid rage and for the first time since they came into contact, Waver could see why this man was a Berserker in the first place. "The accursed little things... I should have known."

"You wouldn't be able to do much." Kariya shrugged indifferently. Weren't they just finishing off their own resignation? "Nobody would."

"But... I don't understand... w-what worms?"

"Are you sure you want to know the answer to this question, my liege?" Rider boomed from his spot, concern seeping into his voice. Waver shook his head furiously.

"W-well, how the heck am I supposed to try and do something about them otherwise?" The worm carrier chuckled and shook his head.

"You can't. No one can. Even if they could, I can't get rid of them until I'm done with the War." Kariya stood up, rubbing at his neck. "Without them, I can't supply Berserker with enough prana, or any prana at all."

"W-what? I..."

"I'm no Magus, Waver." A brief moment of silence. "I ran away from Magecraft, from the curses of the Matou family... for worst, it seems." Kariya cleared his throat and took a longer pause to fight back the coughing fit. Berserker's figure notably tensed during that. "I came back to fight for... someone I care for, but I couldn't have done that without an impromptu power-up."

"How much time do you have?" Rider's question felt heavy even in spite of the neutral tone of voice. It felt heavy for Waver, at least.

"I can't tell. The Servant I was supposed to get, he was... cost-intensive, or so I've been told." Another coughing fit. "A month? Maybe less, maybe more."

"...so... so you have some worms eating you from the inside out..." Waver's voice shook as he tried to gather his thoughts back and found himself failing. "And a month to get your stuff done."

"Stuff being, winning the War."

"You're rather laid-back about the whole ordeal." Kariya shook his head.

"No. I've never been more serious about anything in my entire life." He meant it. Every movement of his body, every little twitch and the way he sounded... he meant it wholeheartedly. "I'll win this godforsaken War and save Sakura from her fate."

He realized he said too much a moment too late, but Waver's brain was already trying to figure it out piece by piece. So, someone's life was on the line. Family member? A lover? A friend? No matter. Fighting in her name – Sakura was a feminine name, right? - instead of her, presumably. If Kariya wins, she would be returned to him.

But... winning a Holy Grail War is no easy task, even assuming everything goes as it should, especially for someone so out of his element as Kariya. Take Kayneth, for example. The man was an accomplished Magus with lots of experience both theoretical and practical, with a political clout to his name, with resources. The woman from the docks Waver could recognize as one of the Einzberns (Rider's description helped), another big name in the society of Magi. If he recalled his crash course on the intricacies of previous Grail Wars correctly, there was also the Tohsaka family; guardians of Fuyuki and potent Magi in their own right.

The Matou family was also a strong one – they were mentioned alongside the Tohsakas - but Kariya had willingly thrown that away as he himself admitted. He had forsaken the ways of Magecraft, thus his Magic Circuits were more likely than not unprepared for any larger effort, let alone maintaining a Heroic Spirit. Even he, a fairly second-rate Magus as far as they went, could manage Rider's upkeep without discomfort. The increase of power done so quickly helped Kariya's case, but at the same time it might have done irreversible damage to his body. Assuming the worms could have been extracted without killing him, he would still be frail and sickly until his premature expiration.

Waver could reach only a single conclusion: whoever provided Kariya Matou with this kind of power-up didn't hold much hopes for him. Thus, Sakura was forfeit... unless he were to have some sort of help. Funny; a moment earlier he was considering forfeiting himself to try and entertain Kayneth enough to avoid unfortunate death and yet here he was, planning how to proceed with a plan perhaps even more dangerous.

"My liege?" Waver snapped back to reality, blinking a couple of times. All stares were on him. "You were silent for a while."

"What? Oh, I... uh, I was thinking. Thinking how to work this all out." The confusion in the following silence seemed thick enough to cut with a knife.

"...do you... have some sort of plan on hand, Waver?" A faint trace of hope resounded in Kariya's voice.

"...I might. I'm not sure yet." The student drummed his fingers on his knee, brows furrowed in thought. "The way I see it, however, there are two options for us. We can try to win the War, but that's a tough ordeal, as we all know."

"What's the other option?"

"We take Sakura back prematurely."

* * *

As everybody planned or relaxed during this brief period of peace, Emiya Kiritsugu was busy setting up C4's.

Not one to take long breaks and empowered by the last night's triumph, he couldn't stew in his own hubris when there was a War to be won. Yes, the most dangerous of the Masters has been eliminated, but that did little to alleviate the threat of others. He was simply after the hard part of the War.

After Kotomine, it was natural to go after the second most dangerous of opponents, Kayneth Archibald El-Melloi. He was everything the previous mark was not; a complete opposite of the Executor-turned-Master. If Kiritsugu had a more advanced sense of humor, he would probably call him a "classic" Magus. Really, Kayneth was just that; a stereotypical, arrogant practicioner of orthodox Magecraft who sneered at those he considered below him.

The Magus Killer preyed upon such targets. Kirei was so dangerous because he did not fight like an ordinary Magus. That Kiritsugu could avoid fighting him at all was amazing in its own right. Of course, that plan wouldn't have been made possible without Saber's reappearance. Even the most subpar of Servants outperformed any human by a wide margin. Lucatiel's stats might not have been the greatest, but this Noble Phantasm of hers granted her tactical importance. A Servant was a tool, a means to an end. One that could die and return was the very personification of that idea.

Of course, Kiritsugu wasn't a fool. Saber would speak of this phenomenon with more enthusiasm if it didn't contain some side effects. Just bringing it up, this Darksign, was enough to make her uncomfortable. He didn't press. There was a line in the sand somewhere, a turning point where the boon would become a curse, but it wouldn't do wasting a Command Seal on knowing the details. Frankly, it seemed Saber herself didn't know.

Confronting Kayneth directly was a poor idea at the moment; no doubt both he and Tohsaka were on guard more than ever now that first of the Masters had perished. He could, however, sabotage him by blowing up his base of operations. Getting info on where El-Melloi was a child's play; Maiya had the information prepared for him long before Tohsaka faction staged an attack on them. Of course, he had to make the necessary preparations to avoid unnecessary casualties: calling for a bomb alarm, redirecting the explosions so the hotel simply collapses on itself rather than go all over the place, the works. Kayneth was the type of man to ignore a bomb warning.

If he could kill him while at it, more power to him, though Kiritsugu suspected the man of his caliber could indeed safely ignore a bomb warning.

The bomb-setting was progressing smoothly.

* * *

Garl's earlier mistrust of the automobile was... not unfounded.

Perhaps it wasn't the machine itself, but the fact that Irisviel was currently driving. Dear Umbasa, _why_ was Irisviel driving? His understanding of all the laws behind safe traveling with cars was lackluster, of course, but judging by how Saber – a Servant with an actual skill in Riding – was wriggling nervously in her seat told more than enough.

He wasn't even materialized. The same couldn't have been said of Astraea, currently as nervous as Saber, both of them in the backseat. Perhaps that was his reason to be anxious about the ordeal? Crashing in the accursed thing would be unlikely to give them even bruises and they would be fast enough to get Irisviel out of trouble should they actually crash. The only person completely unflappable about the situation, oh irony, was that Maiya woman, now and then issuing level-headed warnings for Caster's Master to slow down... just a bit.

She joined them as they were leaving the city. The sun was barely setting by then; they have spent the whole day following the whimsy of Iri's shopping spree. It appeared that both his beloved Astraea and Saber were having fun as well, even if they would not admit it out loud. That was also important. After the events of yesterday night, some downtime could only help.

Even if it felt like they were all about to die in a horrific car crash.

"There's someone on the road." Irisviel hit the brakes, letting the car skid to a screeching halt. Indeed, a lone man stood there. He was no Servant, nor was he a Magus. At the very least, he didn't look like one. Quite frankly, it appeared that he was an entirely ordinary civilian that just so happened to stand in the middle of the mountain road in the late evening.

Garl smelled a trap from afar. So did Maiya, if her frown was anything to go by. There was a brief moment of silence during which she exchanged glances with everyone in the car and shuffled out, shortly followed by Saber. Pistol at the ready, she approached the man slowly with Lucatiel right behind her.

It appeared that the man was sobbing profusely, shaking as if in fever. Upon Maiya's approach he stumbled back, shaking his head vividly, almost like he didn't want them to approach in the first place. Yes, this all reeked of a trap. The mysterious man fell right on his back and hastily turned around to prostrate himself in front of the two women, not stopping his sobbing for a moment. He made a sound, but it didn't come out as anything coherent.

"Stand back, Maiya." Lucatiel urged, shifting about as her sword materialized into the physical plane. "I do not like this situation one bit."

"Do you sense anyone around?"

"Something stirs above us..." The faint whiz of the incoming blade, Saber caught at the last moment. "Duck!" Her blade swung just as the other woman followed the order, clashing with a silver dagger bristling with little spikes.

It rebounded, grazing Lucatiel's cheek and flying past, only to stop right at Garl's shield. The knight of Astraea was back in a physical form and he could unmistakably recognize the blade thrown at them.

It was the dagger of Assassin.

* * *

 **This lives! I've had something of a writer's block when it comes down to fanfics, but here you go! It's time we go back into action, and there's a lot of action that will go on. ^_^**


	11. Things To Come

**Man, it's been a while since I've updated any of my fics. Sorry for a delay; there was a crippling lack of inspiration, other projects and lots of uni also kept me away from writing something. Can't tell how frequently I'm going to update the story, but to reassure you: it's not dead. :)**

* * *

A lot of things happened in a short amount of time.

Lucatiel winced and felt for her cheek, Garl held his shield close, shielding both Astraea and Irisviel from follow-ups and Maiya pulled the trigger. The hapless man-bait dropped dead without a sound as she surveyed the surroundings. It was mostly a comforting gesture: Assassin could likely remain hidden if she pleased or just move too fast for her to follow.

The man's tongue lolled out of his mouth as he died – or what was left of it, anyway; it appeared that it was cut off, with only a little bit wriggling about. Worse, it seemed he was... a Master? There was the unmistakable sign on his hand, all three lines faded. What was going on? Did Assassin just contract a random man picked off the street, forced him to use his Command Seals and cut out his tongue for good measure?

"Keep your eyes open. She is prowling in the dark." Garl warned, looking around for the next angle Assassin would attack from. She had little time left; with a loss of her new "Master" - Umbasa bless this poor man's soul – she likely could not afford to linger lest she were to vanish completely. Ciaran went for Lucatiel and Maiya, rather than for the only other Master present, as an Assassin would usually do. What was her game here...?

No further attack came. The night remained silent. "Is she gone...?" Irisviel asked, looking at the hapless victim of Assassin's scheming.

"...seems so, Master." Astraea nodded in agreement. Her scanning the area yielded no results. It really seemed that Assassin had left.

"What was the point of that?" Garl remained vigilant in case she was still around despite everything. "She would do better to remain in hiding, especially without a proper Master to maintain her."

"Maybe she's desperate?" Iri suggested shyly. Both Caster and Saber shook their heads. Was Lucatiel a little paler than before? Or was it just the moonlight mixing with the carlight?

"She would fight to the death then. There is no reason for her to wait..." The latter of the two mumbled, then winced. "But if she could take a random bystander and force him into Mastership... there is plenty of bystanders in this... in this town."

And then Lucatiel stumbled and fell down on one knee, panting. Ignoring Garl's warning, Irisviel was already by her side. "Saber? Are you hurt?" Astraea was there shortly after, ready to prepare her healing magic. Maiya ignored the commotion for now, a sharp-eyed watchman searching for any possible trouble.

"I... don't know. Assassin's knife grazed me, but..." She coughed and shook, as if feverish. "Curses... was it poisoned?"

"I... have never seen this venom before..." Caster whispered, and the little gasp before it could only mean trouble. Irisviel already expected the worst; that Saber would be back was the coldest of comforts if she were to die here in her arms, in the middle of nowhere. Would she be back...?

"'tis a sad way to go..." Lucatiel chuckled, her voice straining to keep the last bits of humor in. She coughed again and winced. "It burns..."

"I... forgive me... I do not know what to—" Astraea started, obviously distraught, before Saber shook her head.

"I might yet be back. For now, you and your knight make sure my dame remains well." Lucatiel coughed again. This time she coughed out blood, staining Caster's dress. "Just... stay with me, friends... it eases the pain."

"Saber..." How was Iri not supposed to tear up in this awful, awful situation? Back then, after the fight with Berserker, there was hardly the time to take it all in, but now Lucatiel was still there, life ebbing away from her bit by bit. "Promise me you will return." She held the knightess' hand, squeezing it reassuringly. Saber couldn't help a raised eyebrow, even in this sorry state. "Promise me you will be back."

"On my... honor as a knightess." Lucatiel gasped out, returning the hand squeeze; hers was weak, but honest, just as honest as Irisviel's. "I'll defy fate if it means... seeing you again." They shared a smile, one final smile before her form crumbled to red dust once more.

* * *

The form of Assassin watched from afar, just far enough to remain hidden from Caster's scrying. Her body flickered and shimmered as she struggled to maintain her form without a Master once more. Then again, she had no hopes for that man to survive the fight. He was there as a distraction, plain and simple.

With the Mirrah wretch put out of commission for now, her job was complete. She had to find another host soon to not risk premature expiration. She could not recall her dagger and her armor was too much to upkeep. Ciaran was aware that through the rest of this War, this will be how things are going to proceed.

Really, she was doing them a favor. That woman who seemed to put so much faith in Saber... she needed to know what an Undead was. Only then could a rift be made in that faction and, perhaps, Gough and his Master could still be victorious even after she and Kirei were out of the run.

Her eyes surveying the scene one last time, Assassin vanished into the night.

* * *

"I see." Overlooking the hotel from nearby was one Emiya Kiritsugu, currently on phone with Maiya. The building was going down in a spectacular fashion, literally collapsing on itself. Everybody has been evacuated prior to the setting of the C4 charges, so the only hypothetical casualty of the explosion was Kayneth and his fiancee.

Of course, out of all people who could have possibly died in that explosion, they were the ones with greatest chances of survival. No matter. His efforts were sabotaged for now and Kiritsugu was pleased with that enough. It was no time to press on the attack anyway. With Saber gone for the time being, the best option would be to fortify the mansion and get Caster to make sure the fortifications last.

"Get Iri to safety, Maiya. I'll see you at the mansion." That was the second time my wife saw Saber die, he thought idly, making his way to the parked car a short distance away. He could not tell how long it would take for Lucatiel to recover – neither could she – but it seemed that all sides of the conflict were at parity. The Tohsaka faction was likely recuperating still, they've just lost Saber again and Kayneth was deprived of his base of operations. Whatever the remaining Masters did was mostly out of his concern; they were making a good effort at staying hidden.

* * *

This Kiritsugu was a fascinating specimen, Gehrman thought as he watched the leaving Master of Saber from a nearby rooftop before looking over to where the hotel used to be.

His hunch was on point; the Einzbern faction went right for the throat. Luckily, he thought ahead and got Sola-Ui to hire some help in transporting the items Kayneth might have needed to a new, safer location.

It doesn't get any safer than The Hunter's Dream. Lancer turned to leave and jumped forward, from one rooftop to another. It was not a real deal. Mere imitation, in fact, but it was good enough for now, and for the rest of the war. His Master and his fiancee would remain safe there, on the town's outskirts, and he himself could see to honing his weapons for confrontations. Plus, without the weight of sins and years on his shoulders, staying there would be pleasant, if unexciting.

Kayneth grumbled about this, of course, but it's already been better than his earlier reactions. Some of his hubris managed to go away during Gehrman's stay in this world. Not enough yet; his Master had to become aware that his main enemy – the Einzbern faction – would not pull any punches, no matter how dirty. Magic was good to have, but all The Magus Killer needed was a single bullet. Bullets, Lancer assumed, that would ignore the traditional rules of Magecraft, the ones that Kayneth held onto without fail.

For now he had to await further orders. If it were up to him, he would either set out on a scouting mission to check the progress of other Masters – particularily the whelp Kayneth seemed to be cross with – or strike at the heart of the Einzbern beast and take down either of the two Masters one way or another. For now however, it seemed like tense parity was the better option. The imbalance of power was still very much noticeable after the defeat of the Tohsaka faction; perhaps nobody else wished to upset it further.

No matter. They had quite a lot of time to spare.

* * *

Kariya couldn't believe himself. He was about to head to where Tokiomi lived and actually try to reason with the madman.

It took Waver, Berserker and Rider some time to actually convince him, because frankly, the idea that Tohsaka would _listen_ seemed improbable. After all, this was the man who willingly gave his younger daughter to Matou Zouken. Kariya had seen what kind of "training" the old devil was running her through.

That a father would throw away his child like that... that made him frothing with rage.

Nevertheless, Waver insisted that they gave it a try and thus here they were, in front of the Tohsaka mansion. It was late afternoon, not yet evening, but far into the day. This was the last moment for Magi to meet during the necessary truce. According to Waver, it was the best time for a "peace talk". Kariya was revolting at the idea, but his ally asked him to exercise patience.

Really, any attempt at talking things out would be a difficult, uphill battle with Kariya glaring over Waver's shoulder; the student knew that much. If he was not exaggerating about Sakura's plight, then she had to be removed from the Matou mansion immediately and the one who handed her over to Matou Zouken notified of his horrific error in judgment. Now, Waver did not blame Tohsaka for this, or at least did not think he had any ill will in mind.

In a Magus family, only one child can be tutored by their Magus parent. The other, unless it was simply born with no real power to speak of, would waste away; such was the way of traditional Magi. It was a perfectly valid custom to hand over those "waste" children to other Magi families. It was a matter of efficiency. Waver could understand it as a Magus himself, but it always repulsed him. In that way, he felt Kariya's pain, even if Sakura's case was even worse than the usual.

But Kariya could not see into Magecraft. He threw it away to try and start his life anew. That ended up with Sakura taking his place as the Matou heir. Waver wondered briefly if he was aware that this was his fault, even if – like Tohsaka Tokiomi, o irony – his actions had no ill will behind them. Such was the fate of these two families; a tragedy of misunderstandings. Perhaps Tohsaka loathed to send his second daughter anyway, but felt he had to in order to provide her some sort of future? That a Magus would live a life without Magecraft was the worst possibility for them.

But Kariya could not see into it. As far as he knew, Tohsaka callously threw his daughter away to the wolves. The goal Waver put up in his mind was to have these two see past the differences and find a single conclusion to save Sakura.

"My liege?" Rider's voice brought him out of the thinking haze. Waver blinked and looked at the towering figure of Dragonrider. "You did it again."

"Oh, er... sorry. I'm... still trying to piece all this together." They were in the camper van, with Kariya asleep in the back. A simple sleeping spell – with his permission – to help him relax before the inevitable. Berserker sat there too, eyes glued to his Master. "I like to think we can talk this out."

"Can we? The way Kariya voiced it, this will be a difficult matter." Rider wasn't quite unconvinced of his Master's idea, but it hinged on too many if's for his liking.

"He's biased." Kariya stirred a little at being mentioned, but remained slumbering. Berserker pried his eyes off him to look at the back of Waver's head. The student suddenly felt chillier. "And emotional. He's right to get invested in it, but if all he sees is rage and hatred at Tohsaka, then Sakura cannot be saved." A moment of thick silence. "Perhaps there is another way, but I'm not good enough to see it."

"Nay. This might very well be the only one." Gascoigne rumbled from the backseat. "The fight with Saber was really nothing but a fluke. I cannot in good conscience say that I will be able to shield him from further harm against other opponents."

"Problem is, I do very well understand his plight. It's family. You would do untold things for it." Waver looked back at Berserker. The blindfolded hunter was currently staring up, as if contemplating. "Not just companions, brothers in arms or friends. The blood bond is stronger than any other conviction."

"Have you a family, Berserker?" Rider asked, looking at him through the rearview mirror. There was a nod, but no words. "Have they suffered a similar fate?"

"Unfortunately." The way Gascoigne said it, it felt to Waver like his involvement was far more direct than Kariya's. There was that deep feeling of regret and shame within him and it was obvious that Berserker had trouble holding it in.

Nobody pressed at it. Rider knew when to speak and when to remain silent; an art that many looked down upon. "We're here." He murmured after a longer moment, the camper van stopping short ways away from their destination. This was the Tohsaka mansion. "Wake your Master up, Berserker. He will have to fight his hardest battle yet."

"Can he win it?"

"That is without question." Rider sounded confident, but then again, he always seemed to have confidence in his liege and Waver just didn't know why. Devising a plan did not guarantee its success, after all...

* * *

Kiritsugu lit a cigarette. Garl has been watching him ever since he came into the room and judging by the body language obscured by his armor, it didn't seem like The Magus Killer was welcome here.

Funny, considering he requested the meeting. He and Astraea were situated on one end of the table, Maiya prowled in the corner and Kiritsugu occupied the other end of the table. Irisviel and Saber were both absent; the latter due to obvious reasons, the former to get some rest. She took Lucatiel's second death better than the first, but no expert was needed to tell she was miserable.

"I do not think Saber should remain by our Master's side." He spoke after a moment of terse silence. Kiritsugu exhaled, letting out a cloud of smoke. He was silent for the time being. "I understand she considers her an ally and that loyalty will persist" Garl took a moment to size up Saber's Master. No response. "but the attachment she has to her can only hurt her in the long run."

"Saber is Iri's bodyguard." Kiritsugu stated simply, twirling the cigarette between his fingers. "She fulfilled that function before Caster and her made a contract. So far, not a hair on Iri's head has fallen out."

"Her role has become superfluous." Garl shook his head. Astraea couldn't help but notice that her love's voice raised slightly. "Even if she can come back to service, there is no point to giving Irisviel further grief."

"This is the best use of Saber at the moment. She understands her position in this relationship very well. Do you?" Caster winced, then her eyes met with Maiya. There was conflict abound.

"Mind your words, cur." Garl stared Kiritsugu down from the other end of the table. "You are not the one to whom I'm sworn."

"Thank goodness." The Magus Killer appeared unimpressed, letting out another cloud of smoke. Astraea's knight, meanwhile, looked that much closer to switching from words to actions. The silence filled the room again. "In any case, you are not the one to decide. That, I believe, is Caster's decision." Now the lifeless eyes moved over to Astraea. "Shall Saber still be Iri's guard or would you rather endanger her by saying no?"

"What is this word trickery you wish to see through?!" This time Garl stood up, thumping at the table with fury. Caster's face remained carefully neutral. "Are you suggesting we are unfit to protect our own Master?" Much to her horror, Kiritsugu saw fit to ignore Garl's outrage and address her instead. Was he trying to see how much he could get away with?

"What will it be, Caster?" He was certainly trying to guilt-trip her, and it was certainly working. Saber was not their enemy, and she's grown a little fond of her as a companion in arms equally exasperated at Irisviel's antics, but she couldn't help but shake a feeling of dread, of the unknown creeping in the shadows. No ordinary Servant would come back from the dead, and yet Lucatiel of Mirrah seemed as ordinary as they came. Garl was wary of her as well, and he was hardly wrong on his predictions.

"...very well, Master of Saber. Once she returns, we will expect her arrival." She answered after a moment. A good time to do so; Garl looked about ready to go to the other side of the table and throttle their Master's husband. "But will you have no need for her?"

"If it ever comes to that, I can get by." Of course. It was a matter of summoning Saber via a Command Seal. Perhaps those spells could even revive her on the spot, but nobody entertained the notion so far. Here was hoping that Kiritsugu would never try it; something told Astraea that they would all regret it if he did.

* * *

The sun was about to set in the sleepy suburbs of Fuyuki.

The Hunter's Dream was almost as quiet and serene. Gehrman was pleased to see that Sola-Ui enjoyed the stay here. She and the doll were getting along, it seemed. Like Kayneth, she got a little less intense and a little more courteous with people. Not quite good yet, but the progress was there.

As for his Master himself, Lancer set him up a shooting range. There were plenty of bullets in this little abode, so he was free to practice to his heart's content. Kayneth's expression as he took down targets was calm and focused. Of course, he would not become an expert marksman in just a couple of days, but even this training could make a difference between life and death.

"Getting better, I see." He complimented his Master from his wheelchair, watching him shoot down the last of the targets. Traces of the Messengers were around this place as well, and they made sure it was maintained to entertain the guests.

"Do you have even more of such surprises under your coat, Lancer?" Kayneth asked, reloading the revolver. There was no eyecontact here.

"I like to be prepared for all kinds of situations." The elderly Servant replied with a soft chuckle. Then his Master turned to face him and Lancer's chuckle slowly petered out. Kayneth didn't look angry, but he certainly seemed disappointed. Something was wrong.

"This kind of asset" The blond Master gestured to encompass the whole Dream. Then again, was it a dream if it just stood there among other houses? "I would expect to be told about right away."

"You hadn't asked."

"No, I hadn't. Which is why I'm asking you to tell me everything, Lancer. Every Noble Phantasm, every skill you can think of. The reason behind that... doll. The graves adorning this place. Everything." Gehrman's face turned into a little grimace.

"That is a lot to take in over a single evening, Master."

"That is fine. I will allow myself one more night of not doing anything productive." Slowly, Kayneth rose the hand with his Command Seals. It was shining dully. Gehrman's brows furrowed. "So, on the power of this Command Seal, you will tell me everything without a single omission, obstruction or remaking of the truth." And thus the seal was gone.

For a moment there was nothing but silence. Then, Gehrman started talking as he has been ordered.

* * *

 **There you go. This still lives. ^_^;**


	12. Reasonable Diplomacy

" _It seems we have guests."_

Tokiomi looked up from over his book, notified by Gough via their mental link. The walk earlier helped him in clearing his head of worries and go back to the cool, composed Tohsaka in red. What an impeccable timing, that someone would show up right after he returned.

"Enemy Master?" Nobody wanted the masquerade to get out to the world of the ordinary mortals. Worst came to worst, either Executors of the Church or a killteam from Mage's Association would show up to turn Fuyuki into a glass floor and, despite his secrecy, Tohsaka Tokiomi liked this city. Here was hoping that so did the unknown visitor.

" _Two, even."_ Now that was strange. That two Masters would willingly team up with full knowledge of the nature of the War? His and Kirei's case was slightly different, an exception to confirm the rule. In this free-for-all, trusting an ally was putting a lot on the line, far more than some would like to admit. _"One looks sickly. The other is young, a student."_

"Servants?"

" _Only one. The Berserker from before, the one who put an end to the Mirrah Saber."_ Was the other Servant awaiting to ambush him? Or were those two here to, more unlikely, engage in diplomacy? _"Shall I bid these welcome?"_ The two Masters must have been the remaining strays outside of major groups. Kayneth would most definitely make a grand entrance, plus he would not stoop down to negotiations. Likewise, The Magus Killer would not make his presence known until the first shot had been fired. The Einzbern woman was subservient to him.

Tokiomi couldn't help but chuckle to himself briefly. Another exception to confirm the rule. "Very well. See to it that Berserker remains outside. If they are here to talk, they will listen." It might have seemed reckless, inviting enemies into your own abode, but here Tohsaka Tokiomi was a master of the realm. He wasn't the type to engage in traps, but with a flick of a finger, the furnishings would take care of any intruder or shield him from harm.

Plus, without Kirei, a new executor of his will was needed; these two could just be perfect for that.

* * *

As the sun set and the rats came out of their holes, Ciaran remained holed up in the alleyway, furiously eating the bread she swiped a bit earlier.

She felt weak, obviously. Without a Master to support her, most of her power had been sealed. Trying to unlock it again would be suicide. Her body would dissipate into mist and scatter away, and the Grail would be out of her reach.

Or was it about the Grail now? Perhaps it was just petty spite that kept her up despite the circumstances? After all, the Einzbern faction forced her into this pitiable state by killing her Master. Kirei she might not have liked, but she certainly could respect him. Without him however, achieving anything of note became that much more difficult.

Ugh. The local bread was too dry for her tastes. Back in Anor Londo, the bakeries would present things that eclipsed the men of this realm's craft by miles. She would attend one particular bakery at a particular day, once dressed as a noblewoman, once dressed as a street urchin and once in something completely different. Ciaran would always leave little spots and clues to see if the baker would recognize that these three characters were in fact a single woman. It was just simple amusement, something to have fun with when she didn't need to go out to put down another enemy to the crown.

Memories. Ciaran shook her head, trying not to get too distracted. She couldn't allow herself that. There was a job to do. She would break the Einzbern faction in two, poison it from within. The goal was, of course, to turn them against the Mirrah wretch, the pathetic Undead creature. That would force the hand of Caster and her minion, to protect their Mistress against this strange threat. They would tear each other apart like dogs.

And the notion was enough to get Assassin energized, to keep her going.

"Well... what do we have here?" A male voice caught her attention. Three men, all tall and mocking in their postures. The one who spoke had a cigarette in his mind. "What is such a pretty lady doing in a dive like this?" Thugs and vermin. Ciaran was silent, sparing the man only the faintest of glances and going back to her bread. "That just ain't right. We can't stand by and let you rot in this place now, can we?" He grinned at his companions who only nodded dumbly, their eyes fixed on Ciaran. "How about we fix that? I've got this nice place, with a nice bed and a nice, long shower for you."

Assassin didn't reply immediately, choosing to finish her meal first. Slowly, she stood up while her eyes were slowly calculating the situation. Overconfident positions, tightly grouped in an alleyway and thus unable to fully utilize their arms' length, a switchblade clumsily hidden on the one on the left. The one in the center had a proper combat knife, surprisingly, deep in his pocket. She might have been a Servant, but she was weakened. Overconfidence on her part would not do. "Sorry. I already have a staying place. Can only take one of you." Their smug mugs grimaced with displeasure.

"That was not a request, ya lil' bitch." The one on the right snarled. It seemed the other two were still willing to try out diplomacy however, judging by more restraint on their faces. That kind of hesitation can get a man killed.

Ciaran didn't hesitate. The man in the middle could only catch a glimpse of the smashed bottle before jagged glass dug into his abdomen, deep, right into his insides. He gasped for air and sputtered, coughing blood. Assassin twisted the glass shard in his stomach and, without waiting to see the effects, snapped a fist deep into the left man's neck. It took a mere moment, but suddenly there were two dead men – one deceased before he realized it, the other still squirming on the pavement – and Ciaran, some of the middle man's blood staining her face.

The remaining thug looked dumbly at the spectacle before turning tail and fleeing. Trying to flee, at least; the thrown switchblade of his late friend stabbed right in the pit of his knee, causing him to scream and fall down, breaking his nose on the sudden impact with the concrete. Assassin slowly approached him, having pocketed the combat knife beforehand. "With that kind of mouth on you, your mother must be so proud." She drawled, straddling his back with the blade on his throat. He squirmed and thrashed, bawling and begging mercy. "But, as said, I have place for one man." Ciaran smiled faintly, a thin smile of a hanged man. "Do not worry... it will be a wonderful, _wonderful_ journey."

The screams of the accosted thug drowned in the evening noise of the nightlife.

* * *

Within the confines of the Hunter's Dream, Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald was still busy taking in the information that Gehrman shared with him. Every little detail, and every single one was a harrowing experience.

A lesser man would no doubt have snapped under the weight of these revelations. Kayneth could see it in Lancer's eyes, his mild surprise that his Master was taking this so well. Was he? He was certainly putting up a brave facade, but... now it wouldn't leave his mind. There was so much to digest. He had a powerful weapon in his hands. One powerful enough to win the War with minimal effort.

And yet, despite that, he didn't feel triumphant. No, Kayneth felt tired and disgruntled. Worried about Sola-Ui, and his own integrity as a Magus. She was none the wiser, enjoying the company of that animated doll that tended to the Dream together with those little hideous familiars.

He read some of Lovecraft back in a day, but to think that he would personally tangle with such powers... that thought never crossed his mind. "Lancer." The owner of the Dream was right behind, rolling over on his wheelchair. Kayneth did not look his way, eyes transfixed on what lay ahead, the foggy barrier shielding them from unwanted attention. "Who do you think is the greatest danger to my effort at War?"

"The Einzbern faction, no doubt." Gehrman replied truthfully. His Master slowly stood up from the chair, dusting his coat off.

"Then by my authority as a Master, I shall loosen your leash." Kayneth looked at him, his expression thoughtful. "Dispose of them however you please." Gehrman couldn't help but smile. With so much on his mind, the last thing Kayneth thought about was going to the Einzbern castle himself and getting himself killed in a moment of delusional grandeur. That Command Seal was not wasted, after all.

"With great pleasure." And then he was gone, with just a faint whistle of the wind announcing his departure. Kayneth looked up. The moon was already peeking through the sky despite the sun only beginning to set, full and reddish. A truly frightening presence.

* * *

 _Being an Undead is a cursed existence. Anyone touched by the Darksign knows too much about that._

 _The ones clear of the damning sigil did not try to understand or to offer compassion. Back in a day they would lock the Undead away, leave them to rot. These days, even that much mercy was not to be found... but then again, we lose our minds one way or another._

 _The slow rot to insanity may perhaps be better than dying on your way there, over and over. I have seen the purgatory the mad Iron King set up for his own amusement, torturing the poor souls over and over, as long as they could still think. This is, after all, the most exciting for these men: to see an Undead finally Hollow._

 _But now these memories seem so distant. That is the greatest fear of an Undead, to forget and to be forgotten. Even now, as I battle in this strange war with a body far stronger than it could ever be... I cannot stop the Darksign from doing its grim work._

 _There is hope, though. The Grail could perhaps break the curse. Not just for me, but for every other Undead that is. A wish-making device like this could surely avert any catastrophe and change fate._

 _...but for now, all I wish for is to return to my duty. I do not doubt Caster and her knight are shields as stalwart as they can get, but Irisviel is my responsibility and I shall see to fulfilling it. And, for all it is worth, I just wish to see her smiling again._

 _Then comes my Master, whom I promised victory when he first summoned me. He is truly defenseless without my aid, is he not? He got by so far, but eventually a summoning command will call to me, and it would be most shameful if I were unable to answer it._

 _Thus, Master and Mistress, have faith in my swift return._

* * *

Tohsaka Tokiomi was aware that Matou Kariya was a participant in the Fourth War – Zouken filled him in the other day - but he mistakenly assumed that he was the original Master of Caster that failed to support such a heavy prana cost and expired before the War truly began.

To see him there, looking... as good as he could, given the circumstances, and as a Master of Berserker, nonetheless? _The_ Berserker that put an end to Saber? That was surprising, to say the least. He procured himself an ally, too, this small, nervous student that didn't seem like he belonged to this conflict. Neither of them did.

They did come without Berserker as ordered. Despite that, Gough sat a little behind Tokiomi, absentmindedly carving figurines. Of course, as soon as danger would present itself, he would rise and nip it in the bud. One could never be too careful, especially considering how intense Kariya was, knuckles white as he struggled to keep his hands in place.

"I presume there is a reason why you would come here to talk rather than fight, Kariya." Tokiomi addressed the hapless would-be Zouken's heir to Matou Magecraft. The man in a hoodie did not respond beyond a small grunt. Tokiomi couldn't help but offer a small, patronizing smile.

"If I may, Mr. Tohsaka" The other of the two stray Magi spoke up, nervously adjusting his collar. "We came here because we believe there is a matter of grave importance to discuss with you."

"And what is that matter, Mr...?"

"Velvet, Waver Velvet. Uh, pleased to meet you." Tokiomi smiled a humorless smile. Waver quickly reflected on his folly. "A-anyway, uh... this concerns... your daughter." A moment of silence. Tohsaka's eyebrows slowly furrowed. Waver reflected one more, gesticulating in panic. "T-the other daughter! Uh, Tohs-saka Sakura."

Next to floundering Waver, Kariya felt almost serene in his determination and rage both. On the opposite side of the long table sat the man responsible for Sakura's suffering, her very own father who gave her away to Zouken. He kept calm despite himself. Waver insisted that he will do the talking. "Sakura? What about her?"

"Kariya filled me in on the situation." Tokiomi gestured for Waver to continue. The student cleared his throat awkwardly. "You sent her to Matou Zouken to make sure she receives a Magus' education in face of... Kariya's sudden departure." The air got that much more thicker, but Kariya didn't move a muscle, only coughing from time to time. His eyes were glued to Tokiomi.

"That is correct. I presume you are aware of my reasons why, Mr. Velvet?"

"Yes. A Magus can only educate one child. Only one can inherit the secrets of the family. The other, if it wants to live the same life, must have another educator. Otherwise they risk tumbling town into the lowest echelons of society. Is that correct?" Tokiomi nodded without a word, a small smile quirking on his lips. Waver gave himself a mental pat on the back; he had the man's attention.

"Mr. Tohsaka... what if I told you that you were fooled?"

* * *

The night grew strong as the lone figure stood on a small slope overlooking the Einzbern castle. With his scythe out, it seemed like Death itself came to visit.

Of course, Gehrman was not on that level, but he liked to entertain the notion. It didn't really matter to the opposing side, did it? The hunt was on, and The First Hunter has just joined it.


	13. The Hunt And The Answers

The silence was thick, pregnant. It was making Kariya nervous. Even the giant Archer stopped his woodcarving, the knife hanging over the half-finished figurine without the slightest movement.

He was still looking at Tokiomi, of course, to gauge his reaction. Waver had a plan to appeal to the man as a Magus rather than a father, something that Kariya himself never thought of. Yet, it seemed like Sakura's father's expression remained impassive. For the longest time, he felt ready to lunge at Tokiomi and tear him to pieces, consequences be damned.

"Archer." Tokiomi finally spoke. There was no smile on his face, but he didn't appear angry, disappointed, upset. The carefully woven Tohsaka elegance was not easy to break twice in a row. Waver's face lost a bit of its color, Kariya gritted his teeth. So that was that? He would have his Servant kill them right there? Sakura would remain Zouken's captive? Waver, the poor hapless guy, would become yet another victim of Tohsaka's indifference?

"Yes, my liege?"

"Head over to the wine cellar, if you please. Give us the strongest you can find." The massive figure put away his woodcarving tools and gave a single nod before departing there, his steps surprisingly light for someone this gigantic. Kariya's expression turned blank. Waver visibly breathed a sign of relief. So this was not over yet... Was this how Tokiomi conveyed negative emotions? It made sense to Kariya, at least, though frankly seeing him convey any negative emotion that wasn't disapproval of others surprised him. Did they actually get to him?

There were no words for the next few minutes while Archer was busy acquiring the wine in question. Kariya briefly got his eyes off Tokiomi to look at Waver. His partner in crime seemed to be looking hopeful about their mission here. As for the master of the house, his fingers were slowly drumming on the table as he looked at the family portrait that hung there. Both of his children were present there, together with himself and Aoi. That was before he sent Sakura to Zouken so she could receive education.

How could he, Tohsaka Tokiomi, be fooled? Did Zouken have some sort of hidden agenda on his mind? Tokiomi knew the man ever since he was but a child tutored under his own father, and he never gave him an impression of someone manipulative or malicious. A strict mentor, yes – no doubt the departure of Kariya and the ineptitude of Byakuya hurt him deeply – but nobody else.

Gough returned with a bottle and a set of glasses, pouring each of the Masters a bit. Kariya noticed that there was a faint blue shimmer around where Archer's eyes should be. Waver nodded nervously, offering a small "thank you" before the giant returned to his spot, going back to his carvings.

"Go on, Mr. Velvet." Tokiomi nodded as well, swirling the wine in his glass. Waver was silent for a moment, helping himself to the sour taste of Tohsaka's most powerful liquor. Something told him he would need it.

"Kariya here" He gestured to the main interested party. "was shown what consisted of your daughter's training during her stay at the Matou mansion." Now came the worst part. Waver nervously swallowed and cleared his throat. His and Kariya's stares met; the man in a hoodie gave him a silent go-ahead. "It is not what one might... might assume the training would be." Another pregnant pause. "It, uh..." He stumbled and mumbled, finding himself unable to just... say what Kariya told him. The notion was so horrible, so revolting... it was making his stomach turn at the mere thought of it.

"Kariya." Tokiomi's voice cut through the room like a razor. Waver jumped in his seat with an undignified squeak, almost spilling his wife. The giant Archer once again stopped carving the figure, head slowly rising to look where the addressed man was. "I've humored you two long enough. You arrived with lofty accusations and I wish to hear the reasoning now before Archer is forced to throw you out." Kariya couldn't help a grimly amusing thought that Tokiomi was still being mighty considerate. Slowly, he rose from his seat.

"Yeah. I guess it's better if I do it, huh. Thanks for helping, Waver." His eyes went back to Tokiomi's. "You want my reasoning? You want to know why I'm in this... urgh, godforsaken War to begin with?" Kariya took a deep breath. "I'll give you one reason."

And then he squirmed, scrunched and gasped for air as the Crest Worms within awakened and slipped through his throat and outside. Just a few – Kariya had that much control over the damn things, at least. Waver's face turned pale again. Tokiomi reached for the staff just next to his seat, brows furrowing.

It didn't seem like Kariya was planning to attack however. Instead, once he came back to senses, he grabbed one of the icky worms and held it tight in his grasp as the others scattered uselessly on his side of the table. The familiar squirmed in his hand, trying to bite its way out in a primitive sense of self-preservation, host be damned. "This thing, Tohsaka Tokiomi... is in your daughter."

* * *

Irisviel couldn't sleep.

There was just so much happening. Saber was gone for the second time, Kiritsugu and Garl had a fight concerning her, Assassin was still out there despite lacking a Master... truly, a lot of strange things.

It was long into the night, and yet all she could do was to toss and turn, thinking about the poor unfortunate Saber. This must have been a torment for her, dying and coming back to life like this. Irisviel could only hope that the death at the mountain road would be Saber's last.

Whenever she couldn't sleep, there were things to occupy her. Books, plushies, sometimes just talking with Kiritsugu until she fell asleep... now however, in the middle of the war, her husband was away and so were many other leisures that would normally keep her occupied. For now she could only try and lie down, trying to think about nothing in particular. Despite that, her thoughts would hook onto the vision of Lucatiel looking upon her with such admiration as she drifted away...

But then the shadow flickered by the window, and the Master of Caster couldn't help but snap right to senses, more awake than before. What was it? She could have sworn it was vaguely human-shaped. A Servant on the offensive? Or was the imagination playing tricks on her? No, something was likely happening. _"Caster."_ Astraea arrived a mere moment upon being called, her immaculate white robes – save for their bottom stained in blood, of course - flowing gently as she moved.

"Whatever troubles you, Master?"

* * *

Tohsaka Tokiomi's face remained impassive. Or did it? Waver could have sworn his eyebrows furrowed and his expression hardened. Then again, if anything else, the Tohsaka patriarch was a master of keeping his emotions in check.

"This is the fabled Matou magic, Tokiomi." Though Kariya laughed, it was a mirthless one, more of a desperate attempt to remain sane despite the insanity of the situation. "You didn't even know. Of course you didn't know. Why would you bother to ask?"

Though the main message was conveyed to the party of interest, Waver was still nervous. They had to thread carefully: technically, it was Kariya's fault that Sakura ended up in Zouken's custody and Tokiomi, once his rage was finally unleashed, could likely take it out on them as well. Archer, as he noticed, remained still, but his massive muscles tensed a little bit.

"Is this really true?" Tokiomi muttered, staring at the wriggling Crest Worm from behind his tented hands. Kariya's expression turned furious.

"How many times must I spell it out to you?!" This outburst cost him; the Master of Berserker gasped and coughed, spasming for a moment. This was the first time for a while since he coughed blood, Waver noticed with worry. "You wanted to give her the future, you say? That's her future in Zouken's grasp; a lifeless doll filled with these fucking things." Tokiomi appeared conflicted, rubbing his temple with one hand and drumming the other's fingers on the table. His well-trained sense of calmness was slowly eroding once more.

"You are not bluffing." He stated simply after a moment. Kariya huffed, wiping the blood out of the corner of his mouth.

"I wish I were bluffing, Tokiomi, but... the old devil saw fit to show me." He tried to laugh, but it came out more as a groan. Kariya looked at his wine and swirled it in his glass before downing the whole thing in one go. Waver decided that a single sip will be enough for the time being. "...he fed me one of those fucking things, the one that... one that violated Sakura first." The student thus decided to follow in his partner in crime's footsteps and downed the rest of his wineglass. Tokiomi's frown broke; the man looked as shocked as the unwritten ethos of a Tohsaka would allow him. "That was to win the War. If I win the War, I get to save her, but..." Kariya laughed again, his head reeling back in despair as he threw away the empty wineglass. It shattered a little ways away from the conversation, yet everybody's eyes were on him. "We all know I can't do that."

"Did you know... did you know this would happen, Kariya?" Tokiomi's question was devoid of the usual confidence.

"I didn't know you'd throw away your daughter for nothing but ambition." The room was filled with silence for a moment. "I don't know. If I didn't run away... maybe I'd be lying in that bug room instead of her. Sure would be better for everyone that way." The Tohsaka patriarch looked hurt, Waver noticed. It wasn't just ambition, naturally; the student could understand Tokiomi's reasoning. All he wanted was to give his daughter a future. Shame on him for not researching into Zouken first, but... perhaps there were no other options?

"No. It wasn't just ambition." The man in red slowly rose from his seat. Archer rose behind him, forced to slouch a little to not hit the ceiling. Tokiomi walked over to the family portrait, looking at it introspectively. "If it was that simple..."

"What do you mean?" Kariya's voice seemed to suggest that he didn't think anything else was possible. He and Waver slowly stood up as well, though the latter remained a little in the back, nervously glancing around the room.

"It's not a matter I would discuss with anyone that doesn't have my absolute trust, but... put simply, I _had_ to give one of them away."

* * *

The night was too quiet. While Emiya Kiritsugu was used to solitude, tonight felt much more dangerous. The tense parity from earlier was coming to a close; tonight someone would lose a life, be they Servant or Master. Such were the rules of this competition; and while killing Masters was not required to win, more than few competitors saw fit to do so.

Out of possible contestants to target him, none would pay attention to Iri and that was good enough for Kiritsugu. With Kotomine out of the way, he could deal with any other Magus in the War one way or another.

Now Servants... Servants were outside of Emiya Kiritsugu's reach. His participation in the War would thus end swiftly with a single swing of Lancer's scythe, oblivious to danger... if not for Garl shoving him out of the way, shield rising high up to deflect the surprise attack. Kiritsugu stumbled ingloriously through the corridor, drawing his Calico mostly out of reflex and aiming it in Lancer's general direction once he got back up on his feet. No bullets – not even Origin Rounds – could do anything against even the lousiest of Servants, so it was mostly a symbolic gesture

"Oh? That is a new sight." Lancer smiled, his scythe slowly moving back as he assumed a more neutral stance, looking over the knight standing where his original target was. "Is that your war to fight, Servant of Caster?"

"Regrettably, our Mistress wishes to see this man through the War in one piece." Garl huffed in response, Bramd resting on his shoulder ready to be unleashed and his shield kept ready for any blows to come. Iri must have used one of the Command Seals for this, Kiritsugu thought as he watched. The elderly Lancer had his designs set on him specifically. "What kind of man strikes at an opponent so pitiful, and from behind at that?" Well, it sure got a little backhanded.

"One that wishes to see the man dead." At least Lancer was being honest about his honorlessness. Kiritsugu could respect this kind of direct approach. "'tis the night of the hunt, sir knight, and I've got my sights on the weakest of the pack." Garl frowned. The man might have not been as fast as Assassin, but it looked like he had other ways to be lethal. He could certainly _strike_ faster.

"I cannot abide by that thought." He replied, bracing himself for the attack. Lancer attacked with certainty and lethality, his scythe fluid in movement as he put Garl on the defensive. The knight was forced to step back, his defense holding steady but himself being slowly pushed further back towards Kiritsugu. Lancer changed his weapon into a scimitar in a blink of an eye, trying to slip past the mighty shield. Garl held steady, but he could not think of counterattacking. Even trying to make use of the Wrath of God would cost him too much time. His opponent was certainly slower than Assassin, but his technique and the strokes of his weapon were impeccable.

Was this the difference in classes? A knight class, as Garl understood, stood a level higher in martial ability than others, let alone classless wraiths like himself. This excellence was not felt with each blow Lancer struck against his shield, each threatening to be the last. He caught Kiritsugu moving in the corner of his eye, likely retreating. Garl's opponent was prepared for that; in his hand shone a pistol. The shot didn't reach Saber's Master however; somehow, he managed to avoid the bullet by a hair's length, already moving deeper into the corridor.

"Full of surprises, that man." Lancer chuckled as his scythe folded back into a simple curved sword, coming in with an assault. He tried slipping past, but Garl was at least fast enough to keep his opponent in place. Of course, that would only hold true for a few more moments; as much as he hated to admit it, Lancer would overwhelm him soon if no help came.

Here was hoping that dearest Astraea and their Mistress were swift enough to reach him.

* * *

"...what the hell is a Sealing Designation?" These two words sounded closer to science than Magecraft, and that dissonance was making Kariya's throat dry. Tokiomi didn't respond immediately, eyes fixed upon the family portrait; specifically, where Sakura was.

In a year, her hair and eyes changed color to the dreadful Matou purple. Kariya looked over to Waver in search of some clues. Judging by the student's dreadful expression, he knew what Tokiomi was talking about.

"Both Rin and Sakura were born with an immense magical talent. Their aptitude with Magecraft is much, much higher compared to their peers; you could say they are gifted." Tohsaka patriarch finally spoke, turning to Kariya. His was the face of carefully woven neutrality, devoid of a smile. "Thanks to Aoi's heritage, her child was bound to become stronger than she was at her age, and that trend would continue with any possible children either Rin or Sakura would have."

"As you know, Kariya, a Magus can only tutor one descendant. Aoi's gift was too strong, too potent; it graced both of our daughters. Their power is immaculate, and that kind of power attracts attention."

"I don't... I don't get it..." Tokiomi did not chastise Kariya for those words; his face seemed to say a different thing altogether. Perhaps he was still in a phase of dull rejection.

"Mage's Association seeks out powerful magical signatures in order to study them." Waver cut in, earning a small nod of appreciation from the Tohsaka patriarch. No doubt Tokiomi didn't like talking about this, for obvious reasons. "Unique abilties, one-of-a-kind Origins, raw power. All of this can be analyzed to better our understanding of magic itself. These people... they are assigned Sealing Designations." A pregnant silence filled the air. "Every Sealing Designation is contained to some degree. Depending on each individual case, such a Magus may live under constant surveillance, be kept in confinement... or be experimented upon."

"Ex...perimented?"

"Alive or dead, crippled or not." Waver looked down, but even despite that he could feel Kariya's eyes and anger slowly circling between him and Tokiomi, as if wondering who is more guilty here.

"As a head of the Tohsaka family, I can protect one such person. This privilege is granted only to the most important, most prominent Magi families. Here, in Fuyuki, there are two more: Einzberns and Matous." Another moment of silence. As far as Kariya knew, Tokiomi had no friends within the Einzbern family, and that only left... "Under Matou Zouken, Sakura could be kept safe. That he was willing to reach out to me and help me – as I understood it back then – was a boon."

"But then he violated her." Each of Kariya's words felt like they were being torn off his dry tongue, even as he clicked it slowly. "But then he did... he did everything he could to..."

"Yes. So you two say."

"...you... you don't believe me." Previously it was anger and incredulity mixing in Kariya's voice, but now the latter was beginning to give way for the former. "I've told you e-everything, Tokiomi, every last bit... and you still—"

"I need to see it myself." Tohsaka patriarch's voice had an air of finality to it. "...what you've said... if it is true, it is a terrible oversight on my part as a father and a Magus both. It is a tragedy, a crime, but until I see it, it is only a story."

"Listen to yourself! Y-you seriously... I..." Kariya choked out a torn, tattered laugh. "Here I was... hoping I can talk some... talk some sense into you..." Tokiomi remained impassive, this time for good. "You're all rotten to the fucking core... every single one of you Magi vermin..."

"That is enough. You've made your plight clear and I will see to confirm whether it is justi—"

" _Fuck my plight!_ " Kariya screeched, slamming his fist against the wall. The violent movement made him take pause as he began coughing and convulsing. Archer slowly rose from his seat, having put away his tools. "Tokiomi... she is in there... your own d-daughter..."

"I will see Zouken tomorrow." There was no arguing with that. Waver could understand why he would not go to the Matou household right about now; the story they presented to him was not impossible, of course, but it was improbable enough to warrant caution. As far as Tokiomi knew, it very well could be a trap set by someone with a history of hating his guts and everything he stood for. "Archer, escort them outside."

"As you say, Master." The giant nodded slightly and gestured towards the door. Waver gulped and followed after the massive hand, glancing back to Kariya. Archer gently scooped him up and carried him right after the student. For a moment there was nothing but silence accompanying Tokiomi until he fell back on his chair, hands tented together. His Servant returned soon after. "Do thou think they speak true?"

"...I fear they may."

* * *

Irisviel and Caster arrived just in a nick of time to aid Garl against Lancer, but their presence did little to tip the scales in their favor.

Astraea was hardly a combatant. She had powerful magic on her disposal, but just because one possessed a demon's soul didn't mean one was wondrously powerful all of a sudden. Her powers were ones to soothe, sedate and aid, but any opposition could only fall under Garl's attacks. He was her sword and shield both, and this time he was simply outmatched.

It didn't matter why; Lancer was simply too strong. Garl could hold him off, but pushing for any opening was folly. Worst thing was, the only reason he was still standing against such a monstrous opponent was Astraea's full focus upon him. She would not run out of mana to rejuvenate him any time soon, but her eyes never left her lover, his hammer and shield the only obstacle between them.

A short ways from the battle Irisviel could only watch helplessly. Kiritsugu had managed to get away safely – the most important of things – but what stopped Lancer from pursuing him once he dealt with Caster and Garl? Maiya was with him too, most likely. Were they planning to find Lancer's Master and eliminate him?

"That you would follow a man so ruthless baffles me, Caster, Sir Knight." Lancer smiled once the weapons untangled and there was a brief pause in combat. Irisviel was aware that unlike Garl, the reaper was hardly tired at all, so to stop like this was to be surprisingly courteous or mocking.

"Lies befit you, Lancer." Garl huffed in response. "I've no allegiance to the cur, and neither does my mistress."

"Yet by the contract between you and this charming dame in the back, you serve him by extension." That was true, Astraea had to admit silently as she worked her hardest on bringing Garl back to his best via the soothing touch of magic. "The devil's in details, sir, and the most important one is that—" Lancer's opponent didn't see to grace him with more time to talk, already swinging his massive hammer. It was an impressive weapon, but it simply couldn't catch an opponent so nimble and quick on his feet; Lancer simply moved out of the way of the blow.

"Keep your babble for the dead." Garl replied tersely. Lancer smiled a little.

"Am I not speaking with one now?" Again his scythe broke down into a curved sword as he steadily approached, the blade mesmerizing in its movement. He slashed true, the strike just barely stopping on Garl's shield. Even with Astraea's support he could not keep this up for long. Lancer could likely disengage whenever he liked to try another route of attack; he was meanwhile stripped off this opportunity.

Irisviel was safe for the time being; even if Garl's opponent saw fit to attack her, either he or Astraea could shield her from harm. Plus, for all it was worth, their Master's eyes were keenly observing the battle. There was however someone whose focus was already fully on one person only, someone vulnerable.

Gehrman vanished, leaving behind only a trail of dust. The brief confusion among the Einzbern faction was enough. He reappeared like a ghost of vengeance, slipping past Garl's right side and right by Astraea. The knight could not hope to turn fast enough to shield her and Caster herself was defenseless, especially against an opponent so swift and merciless.

That left Garl Vinland, knight of Maiden Astraea, with only a single option.

"Caster!" Irisviel cried out in horror, seeing Lancer so close and ready to strike a killing blow. Astraea did not resist; she could hardly resist with so little time. All she could do was to close her eyes and admonish herself for failing her Master at such an inopportune time.

Except the killing blow never came. Somebody else moved in to take it for himself. Lancer's sword cut through the armor and flesh, both of them worn and tired after such a long battle. Now, they would find rest.

The frame of Garl Vinland stood there stalwartly, Lancer's blade digging deep into his chest. He spoke no words and even though he dropped his weapons in the process, his arms were stretched wide, shielding Caster from harm even at the cost of his own life. Such was his duty and he would uphold it to the very end.

"Like a true hero." Gehrman offered his opponent a small pleasant smile before he pulled the blade out of Garl. The knight stumbled and sputtered, blood dripping down the wound. "Goodbye, sir knight." With one swift motion, the Burial Blade separated the head from the body. It fell to the ground before slowly dissipating into nothingness. It was unlike when Lucatiel died; back then she turned into red dust. Here... it was all golden.


	14. Dynamic Re-Entry

This must have been a Servant of Kayneth, no doubt.

Kiritsugu moved swiftly, aware that Caster and her knight were the only thing shielding both him and Iri from sudden death. Lancer was a formidable opponent, one too powerful for them to defeat head on. Lucatiel was a useful tool, but she made for a poor weapon. Maiya had localized a couple of conspicuous locales on the city's outskirts, but checking all of them would take time. He could only hope that Lancer could be fended off.

This time he and Maiya had to operate independently to save time. Not the first time, but the circumstances usually were more forgiving for them. For starters, they were the ones who could set up the battleground and dictate the terms of the encounter. No such luck here, and with a strict time limit upon them as well.

Kiritsugu felt a sudden tug deep within his mind. The tug turned into a shimmer and became a moment of noise before he felt the familiar presence materialize, another's conscious intertwining with his. Saber was back in action.

" _Master? I reappeared at the road where we've met Assassin yesterday."_ She explained. That was too far to get to the Einzbern castle on foot, even for a Servant. There was no telling how long Caster would be able to hold the line.

"Saber, I'll be sending you to the Einzbern castle. Iri and her Servants are there fighting Lancer."

" _Yes, of course! What about you though, Master?"_

"Don't worry. I'm on the move. You, meanwhile, by my Command Seal's power, appear at the battle and ward Irisviel from harm." The faint shimmer on his hand informed Kiritsugu that he has just expended one of the three.

* * *

That was a second time a Servant died in front of my eyes, Irisviel thought, as the dust left behind Garl finally dissipated and scattered to the winds. Well, a first time, to be technical. Saber was still out there, wasn't she? She could only hope.

Of course, there were more pressing matters to attend to; like Lancer. Caster didn't look just distraught, she looked completely devastated. Irisviel couldn't blame her. Though they weren't very affectionate, she could tell that they were a pair in love. To see one part of such pair depart, in front of the other, that Irisviel couldn't wish upon anyone.

It wasn't however the only reason why Astraea was in such peril. With Garl missing, her options of protecting both her Master and herself were limited. She could not hope to match Lancer, certainly not longer than her knight. "I see that you understand." The elderly man spoke, nodding. There was no mockery in his voice. "You cannot match me."

"...nevertheless..." Astraea slowly stood up from her knees, arms spreading wide in front of Irisviel. It was a symbolic gesture at best; a human shield – even made out of a Servant – could not hope to stop another Servant's weapon. "It is my responsibility to see to my Master's life. I cannot let harm come to her, even if it kills me."

"It just might." For a moment nothing happens. Gehrman was no fool; while Caster was likely a less formidable opponent than her knight, odds are she had some trick up her sleeve. His weapon turned back into a scythe as he assessed Astraea in silence before nodding. "So be it, Caster."

He moved in swiftly, but stopped deliberately just outside of the range of Caster's spell, the Wrath of God not causing him harm. He resumed his charge right after, now that his opponent's bag of tricks has been exhausted. Astraea remained firm and unmoving even in face of certain death. This time there would be no Garl to shield her from harm. It was over.

And then Saber appeared right between Caster and Lancer charging in for a kill. She stood there, carried by the mighty power of the Command Seal, and she knew what to do. Her shield pushed the scythe away and her blade prepared to dig into the enemy, but this time nobody could see her coming; certainly not Lancer himself. That he survived the next couple of seconds was a testament to his celerity.

The blow was an overhead chop, guaranteed to carve out a portion of Gehrman's head if he refused to move. There was no time to raise a weapon to block, but at the same time one couldn't dodge an attack so sudden and so unannounced without inhuman reflexes. Those were what Lancer possessed, but they weren't quite enough. The blade lopped off his ear, causing him to hiss and back down, hand holding onto the wound. Blood was sipping through his fingers as he stared at a dead woman ready to combat him, sword and shield ready.

"S-saber?!" At least the Einzbern woman was as surprised as Gehrman was. Caster was the one who was the least responsive to the idea, but to be fair, she has just lost her weapon.

"That's unbecoming of a knight class, Lancer, attacking a defenseless combatant." Lucatiel sneered at the reaper. "Berserker had more honor than that."

"Don't you patronize me, a once killed Saber." Gehrman chuckled, but it was a thin, forced laugh. He's been hit and while it was nowhere near lethal, there was no telling what else she could do. "Though I suppose that is a matter to resolve next time we cross blades."

"Only now you're leaving, now that the opponent can offer you a challenge?" Irisviel couldn't help but wince and she noticed Astraea do the same too. That was... strange of Lucatiel. She could swear she was more reserved.

"If I'm outmatched, it is only natural. You're welcome to chase me if you so desire, Saber, but I think you have more pressing matters to attend to." The blonde swordswoman nodded tersely. Lancer offered another thin smile. "Then it is settled. Rest assured, Master of Caster. Perhaps now your guardian will be more capable." The whitehaired Master met the Servant's gaze with her own, resolute. He was simply trying to throw a wrench between them.

"That is correct, Lancer. Away with you." Or was he? What was with Lucatiel here? She seemed... more aggressive? Or was it just Irisviel's head playing tricks on her in the middle of all this stress? The reaper meanwhile slowly disappeared, turning into his ethereal form and vanishing from the mansion. For a moment there was nothing but silence; Lucatiel's posture did not relax for a good few more seconds. Finally, she called her weapons away and looked over to Caster. "Forgive me. I've said words of your friend that were less than savory." She spoke, offering Astraea a hand to stand up.

"...I... I see." Nevertheless, the white-robed maiden took the offered hand and stood up. "Thank you, Saber. Without you I... I can't tell what would happen." Lucatiel frowned, but did not say anything, instead looking over to Irisviel.

"...welcome back, my knight." The whitehaired woman smiled fondly at the one who promised to return. This time, Saber returned the smile.

The patch of moldy green on her hip remained undiscussed.

* * *

By the camper van, three figures sat in thought. Rider had parked the vehicle a little ways from the city to freely move around for a bit. Sitting behind the wheel could grow tiring even for a Servant.

The other two were his liege and Berserker. Kariya was sound asleep inside the van, having exhausted himself after... today's meeting with Tokiomi. At the very least nothing disturbed his slumber; the worms within remained passive to let him get a much-needed rest.

"What happens now, Waver?" Berserker asked, hands on his knees and eyes – so to say – staring off into the night sky. The student's face turned a little sour.

"Now we wait." A moment of silence. "It's frustrating that we have to be dependent on Tohsaka, but that's the best bet we've got."

"The assumption is that he visits the Matou mansion and questions the old devil." Gascoigne did like the phrase Kariya used for his nefarious relative. It was very much fitting. "But what then?"

"He will come in there cautious. If Zouken proves uncooperative, he can at least stand his ground." Waver rubbed his chin in thought. "I'm more worried if he will try to fool Tohsaka with more words."

"But now he is much more aware." Rider chimed in, standing up and idly stretching, the plates of his armor creaking with each move. "Kariya's confession does not get more honest than this, at that."

"Honesty sometimes loses to opportunism." Berserker grumbled, looking down and rubbing his temples.

"Then again... the way Tohsaka worded it, he really had the best intentions in mind." It was rare in a Magus, to put family before Magecraft. The more conservative approaches thought of a potential family as a little more than a way of extending a given Magus' bloodline. Then again, hardly ever do a Magus get two children with such a large potential, if he was to be believed. Trying to discreetly resolve the matter would get him – and the rest of his family, if not the rest of Fuyuki – in trouble with Mages' Association; thus quietly resolving it was most beneficial for everyone.

It certainly helped that the Matou family enjoyed a privilege of being unmonitored by the Association. Still... "Is there anything we can do now, my liege?" Rider asked. Waver's face darkened briefly.

"I'm not too keen on going inside the Matou mansion to fight, to be honest. A Magus' house is his stronghold and fortress; and one so vile might be even more prepared to ward off enemies." He replied after a moment, standing up. "Even with two Servants to back me and Kariya, it doesn't quite feel safe."

"But then again, this War wasn't ever meant to be safe now, was it?" Berserker chuckled dryly. A moment after, Waver joined in the laughter.

"I'll be honest, I would have never expected myself to stick my neck out for another guy, let alone another Master prior to this whole situation." He mused after they went silent again. "I guess it helps that Kariya has no interest in the Grail."

"Sometimes this kind of conflict is just means to an end." Rider hummed quietly. "An excuse to reach a goal not even a wish-fulfilling cup can."

"Something not even a miracle can get, huh..." Was there such a thing? Kariya certainly seemed to think so.

* * *

Irisviel woke up in the middle of the night, her breathing shallow. The nightmare was too terrible to bear.

She looked around frantically, but there wasn't anyone in the room with her. No, that wasn't right. There was Saber, remaining on a chair nearby unflinchingly, blade resting against the floor and ready to be used should someone came to wish her harm. She was staring off through the window, but Irisviel knew that she was observing the door at the same time.

Now however the blonde's eyes were upon her. "Mistress? Bad dream?" Iri nodded after a moment, feeling her heart calm down and her breathing come back to normal. "Forgive me. My presence likely doesn't put you at ease."

"N-no, it's fine..." Caster previously volunteered for guard duty, but Lucatiel insisted on doing that herself, suggesting that perhaps the maiden in white needs her own rest after what transpired. Irisviel couldn't help but think that the way Saber worded it was meant to be a put down. Nobody really confirmed that; Astraea conceded the issue without any discussion.

"As you say. Would you like me to get you anything?"

"Oh no, don't worry. I can get myself some water just fine." She smiled sheepishly at the Servant and shuffled out of the bed, her feet touching the floor. Saber stood up slowly and reached for the shawl resting on one of the furnitures.

"Allow me." The white-haired woman turned around, letting the blonde put on the shawl on her. "Do you mind if I escort you to the kitchen, Mistress?"

"Not at all." Some part of Irisviel enjoyed the attention too. She knew thar Kiritsugu was busy winning the War, but sometimes she missed someone to talk to, someone close. Caster was never much of a talker, and she wouldn't be so cruel to bother her now over something so petty. Saber offered her her arm and she gingerly accepted after only a moment of hesitation.

* * *

Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald welcomed the morning with a frown.

The revelations Lancer shared with him were something else. He didn't even have a head to admonish him for failing in his mission that he so graciously granted to him. Of course, the informations he brought back from his raid on the Einzbern mansion were invaluable. Their Saber could come back from death. If Kayneth's gut feeling was any indication, it was not a one-time either. That certainly elevated the threat level of the Einzbern faction by a considerable margin.

At the very least Caster's minion had been dealt with. That was one less obstacle to victory. Kayneth tapped the arm of the chair. If his understanding of Caster and her powers was correct then they hadn't have to worry about her as well. She would still have to be killed, of course, but now it was just an afterthought. That is what Kayneth hoped for at the very least.

* * *

 **Apologies for the shortness of this one; I was feeling a little uninspired by the end of writing it. Nevertheless, here you guys go.**


	15. Repositioning

The conclusion was underwhelming.

Thanks to Maiya's efforts, Kiritsugu managed to pinpoint a number of suspicious locations within city's outskirts, but trying to find a specific one was going to be a harder nut to crack. Either some really potent magic was at work or Kayneth was being cheeky with him and forwent any magical barriers whatsoever.

 _He's certainly learned_ , the Magus Killer thought. The hotel he blew up was the grandest, the most extravagant building in all of Fuyuki short of the Ryuudou Shrine. Western Magi often expressed distaste with non-European culture, so unless Kayneth had managed to swallow his hubris whole, it was safe to assume he would not be there. At the same time, that he swallowed even a bit of it was troubling. It was not a situation of life and death either; as far as Kiritsugu knew the Lancer faction was still in better shape than either them or the Tohsaka faction. That meant that he adapted, and unorthodox Magi always spelt trouble for him.

They've also lost Garl; thus Caster's worth was diminished and she herself became much less useful for her intended role as Iri's backup bodyguard. Kiritsugu would find a job for her, he didn't doubt that. Whether she would perform well was another matter altogether; ever since the fight with Lancer Astraea was distant and melancholic. No genius was needed to conclude the two were close – very much so, in fact – and she was taking the loss badly. She was still bound to defend Iri to the best of her ability as her Servant, but as the fight with Lancer demonstrated, her own abilties were mediocre at best. She would be able to hold someone at bay for a bit, but someone much, much weaker than him.

Lancer himself was a problem. It seemed he was the strongest Servant in the War, and Kiritsugu's faction's earlier experiences did little to alleviate that worry. He was quick on his feet – literally and figuratively – smart and pragmatic. It was probably him who convinced Kayneth to eat a humble pie himself before somebody smeared it over his face – and that alone was making him deadly. With that kind of Servant, winning a war would be a foregone conclusion for Kiritsugu. The only saving grace of this situation was that a Magus' pride was not something that could erode overnight, and so Kayneth was likely still bickering with his Servant on some things.

There was also Sola-Ui. Earlier observation seemed to suggest that Kayneth would possibly be willing to concede the War if her life were to be threatened. Finding her on her own was another matter entirely; sending just Maiya could end up with her running into Lancer and going with the whole group would mean going to war. Kiritsugu's specialty was skirmishes instead.

Perhaps this was the time to lay low for a bit; let the victory get to Kayneth's head and work from there. There were a few places where they could do that, just under the radar of prying eyes.

* * *

Ciaran was growing anxious.

It seemed like things would stabilize for the time being; the thug she forced into Mastership was strong enough to sustain her; in fact, strong enough to let her get some of her strength back. It was not much, but a slow progress beat no progress at all.

And then he slitted his own throat with a shard of glass. The very nerve! She expected him to hold to his basic instincts and keep on living – especially since it didn't seem like their contract drained him of too much life energy. Compared to the previous Master who was only good as bait, this one held promise. Emphasis on "held", of course.

Ciaran munched on a breadroll in silence, watching the blood seep out of the slit throat of her third Master this War. Such a waste of material. This whole War was turning more and more disastrous ever since Gough decided to parley with the Einzbern faction. His cursed bleeding heart... Of course, it wasn't his fault that her Master perished in a surprise attack. That was entirely on the wretched Undead Saber and her unscrupulous Master.

Well, no matter. She had to keep searching for able-bodied Masters to keep herself afloat. She wasn't going to concede the fight that easily. There were too many regrets and too much spite for that.

* * *

This might have been the longest day in Matou Kariya's life.

The feeling of helpless waiting was really getting to him. To be dependent on Tokiomi for anything, let alone in a situation as crucial as this one, felt downright humiliating. Still, that was the plan; to have him sort out the mess he started in the first place. Here was hoping that he would do that.

Waver advised him to exercise cautious optimism. According to him, their reasoning – followed by Tokiomi disclosing true reasons for sending Sakura away to Zouken – got to him; that meant that he would take them and the situation at hand seriously. At worst, Zouken would simply kill him which, as the student reasoned, would give Kariya some sort of closure at the very least. While Kariya himself could get behind that kind of closure, it would do nothing in helping saving Sakura; thus the cautious optimism instead.

For now he had to wait, but it felt like he could move mountains and run the longest distances. The fire of anticipation and, more importantly, the fire of _hope_ was a powerful drug. The miraculous force of auto-suggestion held the worms within him at bay, too. For the first time in his Holy Grail War he truly believed that Sakura could be saved.

Really, at this point it didn't even matter if it's Tokiomi who does it. He was willing to give Waver's thesis a benefit of the doubt, that the Tohsaka patriarch has learned his lesson. Kariya wasn't really in any suitable position to look after anyone – having a hard time looking after himself, even with his allies and his Servant – so a notion of perhaps raising Sakura by himself was a pipe dream. With optimism came realism and the notion of a "limited victory". He could not have it his way in full for her sake, but he would take that little bit of triumph all the same.

"You seem in good spirits." Berserker noted as they rested within the confines of the van. Rider was there too, though he did not join the conversation, opting to watch the entrance to the shop where his Master went. Kariya nodded in response.

"I think... for the first time since we've started... there's hope." He replied after a moment, carefully choosing his words. "There were inklings before... when you killed Saber... when we partnered up with Waver and Rider..." A pause. Berserker did not rush him. There was no need for it; plus, it was a pleasure, listening to his Master speaking without coughing interruptions, without the stress. "And now that we've talked some sense into Tokiomi... it's all looking up. Maybe I'm just a fool for being so optimistic all of a sudden, but—"

"It's an optimism well-earned, Master." Gascoigne shook his head. "We've done all we could to steer this situation to a happy ending. The ship has left the port; all that is left is to steer it to its new destination."

"Now, that will not be an easy task." Rider interjected, tapping the steering wheel of the van. "Should the Master of Archer prove unable to wrench the girl from the old devil himself, we will have to take action ourselves. Do you think we can win such a fight?"

"Wouldn't surprise me if Zouken had something to fight you and Berserker with." Cautious optimism meant realism. "...rigging the system to get himself an extra Servant would be just his style."

"The gap in power between respective Servants of the War is not as vast as it first appeared." The red-clad knight replied with a shake of his head. "One summoned outside the order would be weaker still, I'd hope."

"Wouldn't count on it." Kariya shook his head too and reclined idly in his seat. Waver was coming back from the shop, carrying the bounty of instant noodles, graham crackers and tea. "It's Zouken, after all. Old or not, he holds more power than me and Waver with just one hand."

"So the only advantage we have is one of numbers?" Berserker hummed, stroking his beard in thought. "Even if we were to fight alongside the Master of Archer and Archer himself..."

"I do wonder about it." It was Rider's turn to hum. Strangely, Kariya could have sworn that the red knight's voice was just a little bit boastful. He didn't see him fight yet, and judging by Waver's careful approach, it was likely that neither did his Master. Something up his sleeve? "Well, no matter. We shall see to it this evening."

* * *

Irisviel was curious.

As Kiritsugu explained, they had to move from their castle mansion into another place entirely; chiefly to avoid retaliation from Kayneth and to throw off his Servant. His choice of a hideout proved surprising; a large mansion on the northern end of Fuyuki, built in a traditional Japanese style. It wasn't very lavishly decorated, but Irisviel understood that they could not be complainers in a situation like this.

For some reason however, both Saber and Caster seemed less at ease here. "I do not like this place, Mistress." Lucatiel shook her head as she surveyed each room one by one. Astraea remained a short distance behind her, also clearly uncomfortable. "This puts you at greater risk."

"Saber has the right of it, Master. It may be dangerous for you to stay here." The hooded woman stopped by one of the paper doors. "I cannot help but feel the terrible dread, a premonition most foul."

"Is it just that?" Irisviel wasn't fully convinced. Something else must have been the problem. Astraea mentioned the terrible premonition... "...do you think an enemy could have scouted this place out already?"

"Unlikely." Maiya chimed into the conversation, turning the light on in a room nearby. "The place has no magical signature at all. They would have to find this place first, and then assume with certainty that this would be our new hideout. Rest assured, Madam, we are hidden for now." That "for now" was not making anyone's heart lighter. It was only a matter of time before they were found; screening barriers or not.

"Even still... something bad is to happen within this mansion's grounds." Caster looked at Saber, and the Mirrah knight reciprocated the look. "Sooner or later..."

* * *

It seemed luck was on Ciaran's side.

Her journey in search of a suitable host has carried her all over Fuyuki. Surviving by expending the absolute bare minimum of energy, she prowled from place to place, gathering things necessary for survival. Even the clothes on her back she pried off her latest victim – yet another dumb mugger who thought she's easy pickings. This one must have been robbing people as a pasttime, judging by the pleasantly velvet inside of his jacket.

Even still, that kind of hunting would not get her anywhere. She needed a proper host. A two-bit Magus would be ideal – someone with a spark of talent, but presumably no education and no desire for it. She assumed that those that could rub two brain cells together have left Fuyuki for a vacation, likely not to become collateral in the Grail War; and those that couldn't would remain well-hidden. She could not afford to go scouting for them either; that could attract the wrong kind of people. Suddenly she would be the hunted rather than the hunter.

But then, through pure coincidence, she stumbled upon the new residence of the Einzbern faction. She had seen them arrive. Luckily, neither Saber nor Caster seemed capable of perceiving her. Whether it was up to her innate Presence Concealment or the fact that her magical signature was so weak now was up in the air. That was a goldmine. Nothing destroys the morale like the death of one of your own. Particularly if there is more than just friendship between you. Ciaran had her eyes set on the white-haired woman, but the black-haired one would do as a consolation prize. She was certainly easier to kill, not being a proper Master.

For now she procured a temporary Master, a kindly old man who decided to help her out of his own volition. As he reasoned, he never really did anything remarkable and led a mediocre life, so the least he could do was to help her the best he could. It was a nice change of pace, not having to carve the Command Seals on your quasi-Master's hand. At the same time, it was just enough to stay around provided she didn't necessarily strain herself.

But to a Lord's Blade, killing even the most talented of Magi was nothing, steady prana flow or not. All she needed was a right moment to strike.

* * *

The Matou mansion was much more imposing than Tohsaka Tokiomi had remembered.

The last time he was here, he handed his daughter over to one Matou Zouken, so she could receive education befitting her heritage; one that he was unable to provide. As he was told recently, this might have been an elaborate ruse all along. It was hard to tell who lied to him here: Kariya or Zouken.

If it was the former, the problem would solve itself; he would find both him and his ally, burn them to cinders for their insolence and resume on their merry way. However, if Kariya was right and Sakura was tortured and tormented, held at the mercy of these _things_ that were in him... obviously, he had to take her back. Would Zouken concede without a fight? Would he combat him over Sakura instead? Perhaps he would hide behind the fine print of the rules behind procedures like these?

" _Nervous, art thou not?_ " Gough's voice reached him through his mind, from far away. Archer was perched in sights of the Matou mansion, ready to rain arrows upon it should the need arose. It was best he remained out of sight for now; coming in with a Servant could easily be interpreted as hostile intent. Coming alone, even if Zouken were to attack him, the Tohsaka patriarch was confident that he could ward off the first attack and then retreat to let Archer take over.

"Hard not to be, given the circumstances." Tokiomi replied quietly, sizing up the massive manor. "Be at the ready, Archer. I hope we will not have to resort to anything drastic."

" _Thou hopest that the Master of Berserker lies._ " A pregnant silence between them. _"That he is goading you to come here, ask the master of the house uncomfortable questions and be killed as a result of most terrible misunderstanding._ " The Magus in red nodded despite himself.

"He does hate me profoundly, after all."

" _Nay_ , _I doubt it. That Zouken sounds like a snake and a slippery fox both; tricky to corner. Some said back in a day that snakes are faintly related to dragons, even."_ The explanation might have sounded strange without context, but Tokiomi got to know his Servant well enough. If he referred to Zouken as a dragon – even if it was a stunted, wingless snake – then he saw an enemy in him. He could not just defer to his judgment here however. He had to see, to get the information out of him, to confirm without a shadow of doubt that Kariya wasn't lying. _"Hate you he might, but Zouken he truly despises."_

"We shall see in a moment then." The gate of the mansion slowly opened before the patriarch of Tohsaka family, Tohsaka Tokiomi, silently inviting him in.

* * *

 **So this still lives, I swear. Between being back on the uni, all the other fanfic ideas brewing in my mind and time-consuming RPG's, it's hard to sit down and actually write down something that's good to read. Alas, here we go. I can't promise steady updates, but I can promise we'll be having action in the next few chapters, alright.**

 **To everyone waiting for the second chapter of "The Line; Recreated": terribly sorry for the delay. Turns out, writing that story proved more difficult than I first suspected. I'll see about posting a second chapter soon(ish), though it is likely going to be shorter than the first one.**

 **As always, I encourage you to review the fic (any fic of mine ^_^ ) to tell me what you liked and disliked. Thanks and see you next chapter.**


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